


how do you sleep?

by raikkonen (armario)



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Dreams, Infidelity, Introspection, M/M, Past Relationship(s), detailed description of a crash several times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2020-07-25 11:47:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20025301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armario/pseuds/raikkonen
Summary: Nico is having a recurring nightmare.///Update as of 15/07/2020: Considering finishing it!





	1. love will keep you up tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [singlemalter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/singlemalter/gifts).

Nico wakes up in an unfamiliar bed with a scream.

He tries to catch his breath, the sound of his own terror echoing in his ears. The hotel walls are thin; he absently hopes no one heard that. He's never screamed in his sleep before.

_ Excuse me, there's a banshee in room 38. _

_No, that's just Nico Rosberg, he's finally cracked._

Unsteadily, he climbs out of bed and makes his way to the balcony to get some fresh air. He leans over, stares down at the city lights and allows himself to recall and rationalise what just happened.

_Lewis' Mercedes engine had overheated. Smoke was pouring out of the back of his car, and the commentators were going wild over it. Lewis had just passed the pit lane entry when it started. The car wouldn't make another lap of 7 kilometres without bursting into flames; he would have to stop as soon as it was safe to do so. _

_ He passed Eau Rouge, deciding it wasn't the safest place to stop. He had pole, but Vettel was gaining on him. Nico didn't know what lap it was; it wasn't the focus of his attention. He was watching Lewis' onboard- he had gone on to the tarmac at Bruxelles and stopped there. _

_ The pundits stopped talking regularly to listen to Lewis' team radio. _

_"Lewis, get out of the car. Get out of the car."_

_ So the damage on the car was as bad as it looked- you do not walk unprotected onto a track where other cars are going 300km/h, unless staying in your car could be worse. _

_ The safety car was deployed._

_ The cameras focused on Lewis now, even though the midfield was seeing some action and Vettel, although a long way behind, was pretty much on top of him. They wanted to see Lewis' reaction to his first DNF since Austria last year. It was impossible to gauge any expression or expletives that may or may not be being used as he had his helmet on, but as he stalked away from the car, still streaming smoke, flames now visible, he shook his head. _

_ That unfortunate camera angle, being broadcast over several racing channels over the globe, caught the moment the brakes of Sebastian Vettel's Ferrari locked up into Turn 10, and although he had slowed down both as a response to the yellow flag and to make the corner, he was still going at something like 100km/h, and it was at approximately this speed that he hit Lewis Hamilton- not his car, but literally, the man himself._

It was at this moment that Nico had woken up screaming. 

He takes slow, deep breaths, reminding himself that it was only a dream.

And yet... it was so real. Adrenaline still courses through him, his heartbeat fast and loud in his ears. If there was ever any doubt that he doesn't still care about Lewis, it's just evaporated, because he's never felt fear like that before. Fear, yes, but not the all-encompassing, helpless dread that overcame him the moment Seb lost control of the brakes. 

Nico's dreams tend to be obscure, random; often, he's actually able to tell that he's dreaming. That hadn't felt like a dream. More like a terrifying premonition of what was to come in four days' time. 

He switches on the TV so he's not so alone with his thoughts and wonders if he should call Vivian to talk some sense into him. He checks the clock: it's 1:30am. He shouldn't wake her up just because he had a stupid nightmare.

Yet he can't get the image out of his mind, of Lewis' fragile human body being tossed by 800kg of reinforced carbon fibre, like a bull goring a matador, and destroyed within a fraction of a terrible, terrible second.

*

Nico couldn't sleep, so he begins his Thursday morning as a tired, confused mess, running on caffeine and determination. In the daylight, the dream seems further away, and although he shudders to think about it, he tries to forget about it. 

What made his brain produce that kind of horror? he thinks, almost accusingly. A psychologist would have fun analysing that. The phrase 'repressed guilt' was bound to put in an appearance.

Vivian calls. He relaxes immediately at the sound of her voice, and she even asks him what's wrong. He considers telling her, but then he hears the kids in the background and decides it's not a good time. 

"I'm just tired," he admits. "I miss you guys."

"We miss you too," she says, and the warmth in her tone makes him smile.

*

By the time the day is over, Nico is dead on his feet. Between negotiating a contract, Mercedes sponsorship duties, catching up with a friend in Malmedy, and more than half the day spent driving, he is exhausted. He spends a while on videocall with Alaïa chatting to him about her day and feels all the stress melt away, unable to keep the grin off his face. She's so clever.

When Vivian finally convinces their daughter to put down the phone and tells him to get some rest, he feels empty. He checks his social media and finds his eyes are slipping shut at just 8pm, so he lets it happen.

_This time, he wasn't watching the race from the TV. He was standing with the rest of the media in dead silence as they watched Sebastian's onboard. _Is this being **broadcast?**_ Nico wondered, horrified. He noted that it was Lap 38, already knowing what was going to happen, but he couldn't look away. He watched Sebastian clock Lewis walking away from his car almost directly into Seb's path and frantically try to swerve away, which he managed in terms of not hitting Lewis full force, but the left side of his front wing still caught him anyway, with enough power behind it to send Lewis flying, broken, into the barriers, and Seb directly into the Mercedes._

_Seb was absolutely motionless in shock for a good few seconds. His hands were shaking uncontrollably when he put them back on the wheel to press the radio button._

_ **"I can't look," **_ _Seb said. He was on the verge of tears as his voice cracked, trying not to show it, and Nico couldn't help but feel a hopeless pity for him. _

_ His team didn't respond for a moment and it was unbearable listening to Seb's breathing catch on growing hysteria. When someone finally spoke up, it was with false, bright calm._

_ "They're stopping the race, Seb. The R car is on its way, you'll see it in a second. Think you can get out of the car? Lewis' Mercedes is on fire, and you're a little bit too close to it."_

_ Seb shook his head. "I can't," he repeated. "I can't... look."_

_At this point, Nico had become aware that almost everyone was staring at him. Resolutely, he kept his eyes fixed on the screen. He needed to know how bad it was, confirm his suspicions, and only then could he fall apart._

_ The camera angle switched to show the rescue car pull up beside the accident, then the screen went blank with the Formula 1 logo._

_ Nico had nothing to hide behind now. He felt everyone's attention focused on him, and he felt dizzy as he slowly turned around. His legs seemed to give out beneath him as the shock registered, some kind, perceptive soul anticipating it, and catching him as he stumbled._

_ "I'm gonna be sick," he said faintly._

He blinks sleep away.

"Scheisse," Nico tells the empty room angrily. He's kicked the covers off his bed and is drenched in sweat, laying on his back. He stares up at the ceiling where images of twisted metal and FIA safety procedure play like film.

The dream had felt just as real as the night before, except this time, he's even more rattled. Usually, when you wake up from a dream, you notice something completely bizarre that your dream self simply accepted as reality. There is nothing far-fetched or implausible about this dream, though.

Once was a nightmare, twice feels like a warning. The vividness of the crash and the graphic brutality to which Lewis was subjected unsettles him to his core.

He glances at the clock out of habit. 1:30am. _Again._ A shiver passes through him, and he decides to seek some internet advice. 

_realistic nightmare_

"There can be a number of psychological triggers that cause **nightmares** in adults. For example, anxiety and depression can cause adult **nightmares**. Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) also commonly causes people to experience chronic, recurrent **nightmares**. **Nightmares **in adults can be caused by certain sleep disorders."

No, no.

_premonition dream_

_precognitive dreams_

_predicting the future_

He tries a few more searches and none of them actually bring any comfort or advice. He finds himself at a crossroads where he either ignores the dreams, or takes them seriously. 

If he ignores them, that isn't going to set his mind at rest, but it will make things simpler. They're just crazy nightmares his brain is producing to torture him. _Hyper-realistic_ dreams, but dreams nonetheless. He should take some sleeping tablets, try and move on. He's had nightmares before, everyone has, and the events of his nightmares have never come to pass in reality.

What if it _did,_ though? How could he look himself in the eye knowing he had the chance and means to save Lewis' life, but avoided doing so just in case it made him look silly? Losing one of the most important, influential people in his life solely because their relationship had broken down seemed selfish and unthinkably cowardly.

Say, then, he takes the dreams seriously...

Imagine for a second that it _was_ a real, genuine premonition, that the events he's living in his mind are truly going to happen- what would he do to stop them anyway?

"Hi, Lewis, um, long time no see. I know you despise me and you never want to speak to me again, but I had a dream that you died in a crash, so don't get out of your car when your engine overheats on Sunday!"

No. The number he has under 'Lewis' in his phone probably isn't even his number any more; and who's to say he'd even pick up? The doubts that kind of statement would cast on Nico's mental wellbeing are daunting prospects and if he hadn't messed it up with Lewis already, this would make it worse.

Perhaps it isn't Lewis he needs to contact, though. After all, it's Seb who technically causes the accident.

"Hey, Seb, wie geht es dir? Ihre Bremsen werden in Kurve 10 einrasten. Seien Sie vorsichtig, damit Sie nicht auf Lewis treffen."

More plausible. But it was also likely that Seb would call the local mental hospital and also assume Nico was doing something to sabotage his car, otherwise, how would he know his brakes would fuck up? Seb would never listen to him. He'd laugh and say, "good to see you've finally found a sense of humour; only a few years too late."

Every way of giving the heads up that Lewis was in danger would make Nico look extremely suspicious. The only way it has a minor chance of working is if he tells the complete truth and Lewis is willing to believe him. 

_Ignoring the dreams it is, then, _Nico decides resignedly.

*

Friday, Nico travels with his cameraman to the track and starts filming for his Belgian GP video. He runs into some fans and has a long chat with them, which is nice, as opposed to receiving abuse from all variety of F1 fans both in public and online. 

The general consensus seems to be that he is a coward who backed away from the fight, a bad loser, a spoiled brat, a talentless driver who only won because of Lewis' mechanical failures that season. Nico tries not to let it bother him. He knows he made the right decision leaving F1. He went out on a high after years of misery, racing in Lewis' shadow. Now he's free to spend more time with his family, be a better husband and father, and focus on his other talents. But sometimes, he thinks about what would have happened if he'd stayed, even just for one more year, and shudders to imagine the damage it might have done to him.

FP1 passes without incident and Nico finds himself watching Lewis' car like a hawk <strike>more than usual</strike> to see any signs of overheating or other engine problems. Bottas ends up being the fastest, with Leclerc next up and Lewis hundredths of a second behind him. 

Everything seems normal. Of course it does; the universe has never done anything to ease his self-doubt. 

He has a weird vegetable burger for lunch that he ends up being too tense to finish it, chewing thoughtfully. He had tucked himself away from the public and there must have been something in his expression that told other reporters to back off, because he's left in peace for a while. Daniel Ricciardo, hurrying past, spots him and makes the effort to wave, and even in his current mood Nico can't help but grin back, the phrase 'ray of sunshine' coming to mind.

FP2. On his 21st attempt, Lewis manages to come in second-fastest, but Valtteri is still top. Nico wonders if they ever argue, if they ever have to be split up by their team principal because their arguments look so close to devolving into physical blows. Then he remembers, 'Valtteri, it's James' and decides no, Lewis is having an easy ride, unchallenged, just how he likes it. No wonder he seems to get along better with his new teammate; he doesn't pose a threat.

There's a moment where Nico thinks Lewis is going to walk right past him, but he doesn't, passing out of view. It gives him butterflies as always, and it's comforting to see Lewis alive and well as opposed to dying of internal injuries on the track. 

It was spitting during the second free practice, and now it starts to rain heavily. He tells his cameraman to take a break and goes back to his hotel room early. He stands out on the balcony getting soaked to the bone, mind as blank as the thunderous sky, interspersed with flashes of memories and dreams.

*

It takes a long time before Nico is able to drift into sleep. Anticipating the dream again, he was too on edge to relax. 

_Unlike the last two dreams, in this one, Nico is completely aware that he's dreaming. However, he has absolutely no control over his body. With a chill, he realises not standing on the sidelines- he's driving on track, in the W07 Hybrid from 2016. But 2016 he remembers the weather being much better than this; here, it's dark and cloudy. _

_ Nico speeds down the Kemmel straight, and coming out of Turn 9 he sees Lewis' car, except it's the 2019 Mercedes, smoke spiralling from the engine into the grey sky. It dawns on him that these are the exact events he and the press witnessed on Seb's onboard, except this time, it isn't Seb, it's **him.** The Ferrari team could do nothing but watch hopelessly as his wheels locked up; there was no time to warn him or explain that Lewis was out of the car, and Seb had done everything he could to swerve._

_ Nico, however, or the Nico who is driving the car, makes no move to swerve. There is no team radio, no LED to show the safety car is in place. There is total silence from the grandstand, and he can't even hear anyone else's engine but his own. He wants to close his eyes so he doesn't have to watch it happen again, but he has no control over his body. He sees Lewis climb out of his car and begin to walk away. Except the brakes don't lock up- he just doesn't try to make the turn. He slows down just a little and purposefully guides the speeding car towards Lewis instead._

_ "**No!"** he's shouting at himself, to no avail. Seconds later, the car hits Lewis head on. He's thrown into the barriers and Nico himself, protected by his car, smashes into them right after, narrowly missing Lewis' car, where flames are now visible. _

_ He doesn't feel any pain within the dream, trapped in a body that's his, but simultaneously isn't. The team had advised Seb to get out of the car, but he wouldn't, because he was too afraid to see what he'd done to Lewis. _

_ Nico, on the other hand, gets out straight away. He walks over to Lewis, **no, no, no, no, **kneels down beside his broken body and helps tug off his helmet._

_ The rescue car should have pulled up by now. There is no rescue car. It's just the two of them._

_Nico stares down at his once best friend. He's barely recognisable, limbs bent at awkward angles where they snapped with the force of hitting the barrier. His entire face is red, grazed, ruined, skin marred with bruising, eyes bloodshot, blood dripping thickly out of his nose, and his mouth where his teeth had dug into his cheek._

_ He's rasping something that Nico has to bend down to catch._

_"You," Lewis grates, breath rattling through damaged lungs. "You."_

_Even though he knows it's not actually happening, that the only good part of any of this is that none of it is real <strike>yet,</strike> Nico knows he is never, ever going to forget that sound as long as he lives._

_ Then, his dream-self walks away. **"Help him!" **Nico is shouting in his mind, but his dream-self won't listen. And even though he's walking away, Nico can hear that awful death rattle as though he hadn't moved from Lewis' side._

He wakes up feeling violently sick and bolts to the bathroom, tears streaming down his face, to throw up. He curls up on the bathroom floor, heart pounding, pulling at his hair. 

_That was for ignoring the other dreams, _he thinks irrationally, panic setting in. _Because if I don't warn Lewis, if I don't stop the crash, it will be as good as killing him myself._

Nico wonders if he is going crazy. Finally, after years of bottling up his emotions because to give anything away is a weakness that will be pounced on and picked apart, he's gone mad. 

He's always downplayed how much it pains him to think about Lewis, to remember what they had, but it's always Vivian who notices him drift back into memory or flinch at the mention of his 'former rival''s name. She takes his hand, _you know it's okay, don't you? it's okay to talk about him, _but he can't. Not like that.

He was an idiot to think that once he retired, everything could go back to how it was before. He would take anything resembling a friendship at this point, but he's come to realise that it's too late. They fought for too long, and in the end Nico's bitter jealousy manifested in ways Lewis couldn't forgive.

_You. You._

His mind plays Lewis' condemning final words on an audio loop.

For some reason, the aftermath of Spain 2016 comes into his mind. He winces at the thought of it every time; the moment he decided Lewis had really gone too far this time, the final nail in the- no. That turn of phrase hit too close to home right now. 

He remembers going to Lewis' room with the intention of talking things out, defending himself, but ended up getting brutally fucked against the wall, grabbing Lewis' hand to wrap his fingers round his throat until he choked. He remembers stumbling out into the light, bruises ringing his neck, finding his way to the nearest bar and drinking himself blind. He had hated himself in that moment; telling the press it was a racing incident, then offering himself up to Lewis as though he had something to atone for.

_ "Why do I let him do this to me?" Nico asked hoarsely. "Why do I _ **make** _ him do this to me?" Lewis would never pressure him into something like that; but what was making Nico seek him out and ask for it, every time, knowing how pathetic and weak it would make him feel?_

He's thought about that a lot recently. How it always seemed easier to sink to his knees than to let the words 'sorry' or 'it was my fault' fall from his lips. How he couldn't bring himself to admit, 'I love you' the way Lewis did at every opportunity, from joy to anger, from the most intense fuck he'd ever had to cuddling in front of a movie, unless he was tasting champagne with a trophy tucked under his arm. How for Lewis, love was persistent, enduring, exhausting; but Nico gave and took it away on catty, capricious whim.

_ He'd had more to drink that he could ever remember doing; Jenson, the angel, had dragged him back to his hotel room not far off kicking and screaming before he could do or say something to really embarrass himself. _

_ "Lewis?" Jenson queried, rubbing his back in an attempt to offer comfort. His expression had been like thunder as his fingertips skittered over the marks on Nico's neck, who couldn't bring himself to explain that he'd needed them._

_ The German didn't answer, just felt tears spill down his cheeks at the mention of his name. He cried himself to sleep like a baby, and woke up in Jenson's hotel room with no memory of the night before._

_ "Oh my God," he'd whispered. Any volume above threatened to split his head in two. From the couch, Jenson's eyes snapped up to look at him, concern written over his features._

_ "Did we...?" Nico asked, looking absolutely horrified._

_ "Obviously not," Jenson drawled. "But going by your reaction, I'll dismiss it as a possibility."_

_Nico smiled coyly, breathing a sigh of relief. "...No. I just don't want to fuck anything else up because I can't," his voice cracked, "keep work separate from relationships."_

_ He tried to lever himself out of bed and ended up doubled over groaning in pain, a headache hitting him full force, accompanied by a wave of nausea that he rode out with a grimace._

_ "Do you remember anything you told me last night?" Jenson asked, curious._

_ "No, thank fuck," Nico muttered. "I can imagine; you don't need to remind me."_

_ Jenson smirked._

_ "I bet you think I'm pathetic," Nico whispered. He rubbed a hand over his face, avoiding eye contact._

_ Jenson came and sat with him, winding an arm round his waist and ruffling his hair with the other. "I'm not a hypocrite."_

_ "I can't do this anymore," Nico told him. The Brit went from ruffling his hair to sliding his fingers through it, trying to massage his headache away. He leaned into Jenson's touch, closing his eyes, needing the affection which Lewis had seemed to take such savage joy in denying him last night. "Something has to give."_

What gave was the 2016 World Championship, and Nico was able to rest, knowing he'd won. He'd finally won. And during the gala where he announced his retirement, Jenson said, "Well done, mate. You deserve it."

To varying degrees, most drivers are aware of how tumultuous he and Lewis' relationship was. Bets had surely been made, but on Nico's part, only Jenson could ever collect. He was careful to avoid a repeat performance of that night's confession to anyone else- Lewis would genuinely kill him if people found out; although after that mortifying 2013 episode with Mark*, Nico was pretty sure everyone already knew.

It was kind of a toss-up whether drivers were going to look at him with pity or dislike these days, dependent on which of the two narratives they'd been exposed to. 

1\. Nico was whiny, petty, pathetic, and cut ties with Lewis because he couldn't stand losing to him.

2\. Lewis always treated Nico as his inferior, who eventually got sick of it and fought back. Lewis cut ties because he hates people challenging him. 

In reality, it's a complicated mix of both, with a long history of love and hate, pride and jealousy. 

It started naïve, innocent, experimental.

_Nico had sat in Lewis' lap and jerked him off until he was a shaking mess whispering his name like a prayer into his shoulder. This time, when Lewis began to mutter something along the lines of, "I'm not gay," as his usual disclaimer, Nico kissed him. _

_ He fully expected Lewis to shove him away, as he had the first time Nico tried something "a bit gay, man", but instead he just gave in and opened his mouth for Nico to snake his tongue in. Dimly, he supposed he should be taking it slower, if he really wanted to keep their friendship intact he shouldn't be throwing Lewis in at the deep end, but then a surge of bitter indignation made him lose that train of thought and kiss him harder. Having sucked Lewis' dick twice in the last two days, let him rut between Nico's thighs, and crawl into Nico's bed to receive a non-reciprocated handjob more times than he could count, Nico decided he was tired of Lewis saying it. _

_ Nico didn't want to pull away, trying to build up the courage to take Lewis' hand and guide it to touch his cock, but Lewis moved back, cupping Nico's jaw. His lips were kiss swollen and his pupils blown, and it took every bit of Nico's strength not to lean back in._

_ "I want to..." he started, barely audible, a furious blush creeping onto his cheeks. _

_Nico held his breath in hope. _

_ "Return the favour," Lewis finished, trying to inject confidence into his voice, ending up laughing nervously._

_ Nico didn't move off Lewis' lap, wiping his hand of cum with a tissue, sliding his pants and boxers down almost too eagerly. Lewis stared down at his dick and if he hadn't been so mindlessly horny Nico would have laughed at his hesitance._

_ "Lewis," he whispered, licking his lips, "it's only going to take about 10 seconds."_

_That had the desired effect; with a breathless, strangled, "Oh, fuck," Lewis curled his fingers around Nico's dick, whose entire body shuddered at the feeling, trying not to buck up into his grip. He grabbed Lewis' shoulders to steady himself._

_ "Just like you would do for yourself," Nico said through gritted teeth, trying to encourage him. God, if Lewis didn't move his hand, he was going to die._

_ His friend obliged and began to jack Nico off, finding a good pace by listening to Nico's broken moans and hitching gasps. He was trying not to put Lewis off, always trying not to draw too much attention to the fact that they're both male (although, with his dick in Lewis' hand, it's difficult to hide it), even hinting that he can pretend Nico is a girl if he really needs, which kind of breaks his heart. But he couldn't help the noises that slipped out of his mouth, even as he caught Lewis' lips with his again, he was whimpering with the pleasure. It was just a handjob, but Nico had been waiting weeks, treating Lewis like a scared animal, not pressuring him into any reciprocation. So he had the world's worst case of blue balls, running to the bathroom to take care of his erection every time he sucked Lewis off because Lewis wasn't ready to give back yet._

_ As predicted, he came ridiculously quickly. Having pulled back as he got closer to just breathe raggedly against Lewis' mouth, he ducked his head and bit his lip to stifle a cry as he spilled over Lewis' fingers._

_ Trembling with the aftershocks, he melted in relief as Lewis hugged him, hard, glad he didn't suddenly regret it. He shifted, trying to get impossibly closer, nuzzling at Lewis' neck, knowing his long hair would be tickling at his face._

_ "That was so good," Nico mumbled against Lewis' skin. _

_"Yeah," Lewis replied, satisfied and lazily amused. He held Nico by his arms and looked at him closely. There was something in his gaze, some kind of awe that Nico had never seen before. "You're so good, that was really hot, when you..."_

_ Nico shivered with the praise and kissed him again._

In their karting days, it was always like that. They spent so much time physically entangled that Nico came to think of Lewis' body as an extension of his own. He remembers the first time Lewis said, _I love you, _and how the tears came so fast that he lost his grip on the English language, Lewis laughing at his reaction but secretly preening. And yet Nico could never bring himself to say it back in the one language it mattered. Loving Lewis was a weakness, a distraction, and by 2015 he came to realise that he couldn't love him _and_ win a world championship.

So he chose to quit Lewis and start winning instead. 

_Just as he thought he was alone at last with his thoughts, he felt a light grip around wrist that turned him round to face someone he'd thought was long gone._

_"Was it worth it?" Lewis prompted bluntly. He had that cold, dismissive half-smile on his face reserved for media asking stupid questions._

_ "Was what..." _

_Nico was tongue-tied. Lewis played the game better than he ever would, but it was Nico who'd set it in motion. If you go down this path, Lewis had told him, you're nothing to me._

_ "Winning the title. Was it worth it?"_

_And Lewis couldn't fucking help himself, could he? He had to belittle Nico's victory. On the one day where he deserved congratulations, Lewis had to put a downer on it, cast aspersions on his ability. _ _Without thinking, on a wave of fury, Nico said,_ _"To see the look on your face, yes."_

_ Lewis' half smile turned into a brief, triumphant flash of teeth. He walked away, leaving Nico cursing himself for walking right into that trap. _

_ "It's not even about winning for you," Lewis had once accused him. "It's just beating me."_

When they drifted apart, the love, the gentleness, the soft affection disappeared, and Lewis was distant, clinical, sad. And Nico found himself asking that million-dollar question more and more: why do I let him do this to me? And if he was truly honest, it was more a case of, why do we do this to each other? Answers relating to teenage hormones and loneliness no longer held up against the kind of desperate, searching late night scrutiny Nico was giving it.

Nico pushes himself up off the bathroom floor, wiping his mouth, and goes to find his mobile on the bedside table. He's shaking like crazy and his heart rate is through the roof, despite his dissociation into memory lane.

He scrolls down his list of contacts and chews a nail nervously as he gets to 'L' and hits dial.

"The number you have called does not exist."

He breathes a sigh of relief mixed with disappointment, and finds Jenson's number instead. He has no idea what timezone Jenson is in right now, whether he's at home in America or not. He crosses his fingers, hoping the call will connect. 

"Nico?"

Jenson's incredulous voice filtering through the phone speaker calms him almost instantly.

"Hi," Nico says pathetically. 

"Well, this a surprise," Jenson says, but Nico can hear the smile in his voice.

"A nice surprise, I hope."

"Always with you, Britney. Anyway, what's up? It's- 11:40 here, so it better be worth it."

It means a lot that Jenson took his call even though it's so late. Nico takes a deep breath, wondering how he can possibly begin to explain.

"I need your help," he starts. "I don't know who else to talk to. To be honest, I am scared."

Jenson has always had a soft spot for Nico, who may or may not be guilty of using that to his advantage, and the humour disappears from his tone, replaced by concern. "Talk to me, then."

"I- there's really no way to say this without you thinking I'm insane," Nico says. The panic that had receded when he heard Jenson's voice starts to creep in again. What if Jenson doesn't believe him? What if he thinks he's crazy? What if he calls Vivian?

"I already think that."

Nico laughs despite himself.

"Ah, I missed that sound," Jenson grins, an element of truth in the playful joke. "I'm not going to judge. Just- spit it out."

He pauses, gathers himself.

"Say, hypothetically," Nico begins, "you were having a recurring dream."

Jenson goes silent, so he carries on.

"And... something awful happens in this dream, to someone you know. But it's the most realistic dream you've ever had, and you think it's not just a dream, but a premonition-"

"I'm going to stop you there," Jenson says quietly. "Tell me what happened."

"I keep dreaming that Lewis' engine overheats at Spa and he has to pull over and he gets out of the car but then Sebastian's car hits him and he-"

"Nico, slow down," Jenson interrupts his wild rambling. "Breathe."

Nico stops, tries to breathe in and out, slow and calm.

He gathers himself before continuing, softly, "It's so real, Jenson. I wish I could show you. No, actually, I don't, because it is so horrible, so graphic... I know you think I'm crazy. It sounds crazy. But it's _so_ real," he trails off, "and if it happens, and I didn't warn anyone, I won't be able to live with myself." 

Jenson is quiet for what seems like an age. Nico slumps down at the foot of the bed, cradling the mobile in one hand, tucking his knees up to his chest.

"I don't know what to say," Jenson admits. 

The German opens his mouth to answer but can't find the words, defeated and embarrassed.

"This is... this is bizarre."

"I _know_ that," Nico snaps, defensive, regretting it almost instantly.

"How long have you been having the dreams?"

"I just woke up from the third one," he replies tiredly. "Please."

He doesn't even know what he's asking for. He hears Jenson sigh. 

"Okay, just tell me something," the Brit says. "On what lap does this happen? Just so I can watch the race and die of shock if it turns out you're right."

"38," Nico answers immediately. 

"...You need to warn Lewis, then, don't you?"

The relief and unfiltered gratitude he feels towards Jenson for believing him, for taking him seriously, is immeasurable. 

"He won't speak to me," Nico says and scowls at how whiny he sounds. 

"It doesn't matter, though," Jenson shrugs. "If you warn him, and he chooses not to listen, then that's his fault. At least you've done your part, right?"

Nico nods slowly, then remembers Jenson can't see him, so he gives a quiet, thoughtful, "...Yes."

"Do you have his number?"

"No."

"I'll text it to you."

Nico sighs, relaxing a little. "Thank you, Jenson."

"You know I'm here, yeah?" Jenson says.

"I know," Nico whispers. He's always known. He wishes he'd fallen for Jenson instead who's always treated him with nothing but kindness. Undoubtedly Nico would have ended up ruining that, too, because that's what he does, fucks it all up because losing a race is apparently an excuse to treat people who care about him like shit and push them away.

"Good luck, mate," the Brit says, amused. "Let me know how it goes."

He hangs up and Nico is alone again, fighting the urge to call him back and ask him to keep him company, make small talk for a while. A few moments later, his screen lights up with a message that reads with an unfamiliar number. 

He adds it to his contacts and decides to bite the bullet and message Lewis straight away before he loses the courage or urgency. This is his chance to make things right. Even if it turns out he is honestly mental, hopefully Lewis will appreciate the sentiment of wanting to save his life. 

_ To: Lewis _

_ Hi Lewis it's Nico. I have something important to talk to you about. Please give me a chance. _


	2. i don't want my heart to break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i thought this was going to fit into 3 chapters and it isn't. it could be about four, maybe more, not sure yet. i mean i have the entire work planned but the individual scenes, dialogue, especially flashbacks, take up a lot more than I expect.
> 
> anyway. i hope everyone likes this. i am soooo invested in this fic!! your comments mean the world to me <3

Lewis feels wired. Having dropped into a couple of hours restless sleep, he was woken by the sound of a text notification.

_How did I forget to turn it off, _he groans inwardly, rolling over and leaning over the edge of the bed to fish his phone up from the floor.

He knows he shouldn't be distracting himself with a screen, it's quali tomorrow, but his nerves are so frayed he doesn't even feel tired. 

When Lewis reads the text, or rather, who sent it to him, he goes through something akin to the five stages of grief. His immediate reaction is utter disbelief, followed by irritation. 

_Who gave you my number, _he texts back before he can even register what a terrible idea it is to engage. 

The typing bubble lasts way too long for the single world reply.

_Jenson._

Lewis makes a mental note to kill Jenson, then tosses the phone onto the floor in frustration. He scrubs a hand through his hair and falls back onto his pillow. He doesn't want to deal with Nico now. Not ever, but particularly not at 2am when he's trying to rest up for a Grand Prix weekend.

He hates how Nico, or any mention of his name, or reference to his general existence, completely floors him. Even after all this time, he's still pissed. Hurt. Confused. Betrayed. And morbidly curious as to what Nico could possibly need to talk to him about, after he'd made it abundantly clear he never wants to speak to him again. 

_"You're delusional," Lewis laughed, except it was utterly devoid of humour. "We are never going back to what we were before; you made sure of that."_

_ Standing in the middle of Lewis' huge apartment, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, Nico looked small. He looked away, his eyes slipping shut as he struggled to answer. Did he think Lewis would make it easy for him?_

_ "You went too far to win," Lewis told him. His hands were clenched into fists by his sides. He worried what he'd do with them- probably something a lot more tender than a punch. He shouldn't have come back to the apartment,_ _ he should have known Nico would be waiting to ambush him with naïve ideas of reconciliation._

_ "I couldn't have won without making some sacrifices," Nico replied evenly. "Just as you don't."_

_Lewis bristled in annoyance. Nico hadn't given up on projecting indifference, a habit he'd picked up in 2016, probably on the recommendation of his assortment of psychiatrists hired to reduce their relationship to telemetry. Lewis remembered telling Nico, who was getting picked on constantly when they were kids, "Don't let them get to you." It's irritating to see his own advice used against him. Although they are some of the most upsetting memories of his life, he wished Nico would argue back like they used to; spit some bitter insults seething with jealousy at him just so Lewis knew he could still make him feel something. _

_ "**I** won without sacrificing us," he pointed out tersely._

_ "Because you were better than me!" Nico sighed. "You were better than me because you weren't afraid to beat me."_

_ He'd argued that point so many times that Lewis thought there was no point dragging it up again. _

_Nico admitted he is a naturally jealous person; and Lewis didn't believe it would happen the other way round- that he'd ever begrudge Nico the win. Although... there is some kind of hot, churning resentment that settled in his stomach when Nico won the championship._

_ "Did your therapist honestly tell you to cut ties with me?" Lewis asked, diverting._

_Nico blinked, taken aback. Lewis wanted to shake him. _

_ "I was... advised... to get rid of things that were holding me back," the German replied uncomfortably. _

_There is a point where you hear something so unbelievable and wrong that the anger filters out and away into a soul-crushing, exhausted numbness. _

_ "'Things that were holding you back'," Lewis repeated lifelessly. His fists uncurled and hung loosely at his sides. _

_ Having admitted it, Nico knew he'd hurt Lewis. He stepped forward against his better judgement, and softly touched Lewis' jaw._

_ The Brit looked at him properly then, fixing Nico with a look that could only be described as baleful._

_How fucking dare you be this beautiful, Lewis thought bitterly. Nico's expression was open, hesitant, and Lewis had forgotten how breathtaking he was when he wasn't plagued by exhaustion and envy. It would be so easy to step into his embrace, tuck his chin into Nico's shoulder and tell him _don't ever leave me, _that they are supposed to be together: romantically, sexually, platonically; Lewis would take anything he could get._

_ What spurred him on to do the opposite was the true contentment he had observed in Nico since he had retired. He smiled more, he was relaxed, easygoing, charming... happy. He looked completely fulfilled- he had a loving wife, a daughter and another child on the way, a world championship to his name, and a promising career in anything he set his mind to._

_ Lewis, meanwhile, was the better driver. But was he happy? Was there even a shadow of the same contentment with his own life that Nico had? Or was he still desperately lonely, unable to find the missing piece to his jigsaw heart._

_ He hated that Nico was happy without him._

_ "If I were to take that same advice, I'd tell you to get out of my apartment," Lewis said quietly, "and never come back."_

_ "Lewis..."_

_He flinched at the mention of his name, recalling the moment he'd admitted what it did to him._

_He can't quite place the year, but it was long before drunk, 16-year-old Nico made his move by practically tripping over the threshold to their shared hotel room, pressing himself up against Lewis' back and sliding his fingers over Lewis' hipbone, breathing shallowly. No, they were a little younger, and Nico was talking animatedly to another driver in German, one hand around Lewis' arm so he didn't walk away._

_ "Lewis?" Nico had said, slipping back into English as the boy he was talking to left them alone. "You with me?"_

_ "I like how you say that," the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself. _

_ "Say what?" _

_Nico stopped and looked at him, confused. His hair flopped into his eyes and Lewis shoved his hands in his pockets so he didn't give in to the urge to brush it back from Nico's face._

_ "Um, nothing, just," Lewis cleared his throat, impossibly glad for the fact that he didn't visibly blush, and kept walking. He felt like a complete idiot, not to mention a freak. Where the fuck these inappropriate thoughts about his male teammate were coming from, he didn't know. _

_ "Ah," Nico said as he caught him up. There was a glint in his cat's eyes. "Lewis."_

_The Brit glanced at him uncomfortably. "That's my name... don't wear it out..."_

_ "Shouldn't I?"_

_Nico's voice had started to break, almost all the time, and Lewis loved to take the mick out of him for it- but he would honestly admit he could listen to Nico's accent curl softly around English words all day. He felt an inexplicable shiver run the length of his spine when Nico said his name._

_ All of that was probably written in his deer-in-headlights expression even as he had turned away to walk faster, and Nico had given him a crooked grin as he hurried to keep up, repeating, "Lewis..." _

_ And that never seemed to get old. Those sweet, awkward days were long gone, and the world had taken its toll on him. He didn't blush or stammer any more; in fact, he had mastered a poker face._

_ Bastard, Lewis thought, coming back to the present. He knows exactly what he's doing, always has, and then plays innocent._

_"'Things that are holding me back,'" Lewis quoted again. "You're one of them. Get out."_

_The ruthlessness chipped at his soul a little, though it had to be done._

_ "I-"_

_ "Don't contact me again. Don't catch my eye in the paddock, don't pass me in the corridor, don't text me, don't come anywhere near me," he hissed. He stormed over to the door and opened it in a clear demand for his unwanted guest to leave._

_ Nico narrowed his leonine eyes and just for a second, Lewis thought his collected facade was going to shatter._

_ It didn't. He walked away without another word._

Lewis doesn't trust him anymore. He's a chameleon, changing every aspect of himself for the sole purpose of winning a championship. Did he even really win it if he had to go to those kind of lengths? He seems to have changed his colours again- charming, cheerful, personable, instead of the awkward, sweet, honest Nico they were so used to, the one that Seb had so loved to make fun of.

Lewis is always waiting for him to slip back into that merciless, cold persona he faced in 2016, waiting for everyone else to see it too this time.

He used to wince at the comments Nico got on social media, or the mean-spirited insults shouted at him from the fans. It was even worse when it was _Lewis' _fans making the comments; it seemed to weigh even more on Nico's mind, that people wanted to tear them apart. 

He tried to tell his friend not to worry about it. His heart would sink when he saw Nico's shoulders slump after reading the hate, the headlines criticising him, doubting him.

Now, Lewis revels in it, hot churning anger in his stomach, the negativity towards his ex-teammate only fueling his bitterness.

_Yep, _he wants to reply individually to each comment. _He's a coward. A dickhead. A spoiled brat._

There's a thought, a horrible, insidious suspicious that infiltrated Lewis' mind and settled there, long before Formula 1 was even a possibility. 

_Were Nico and I friends solely on the condition that I always beat him?_

He can't stop thinking about it.

He accepts it was hard for Nico. There was a lot of pressure on him to be the best, and he wasn't racing himself, he was always racing Lewis. It didn't matter if he was faster than 18 other drivers- if he wasn't faster than Lewis, then he had failed. In his own mind, in the team's mind, in the media's mind. 

Lewis doesn't truly believe that most other drivers faced the same kind of pressure that Nico did. He'll admit that, if only to himself. He will. He spent so much time consoling Nico, terrified he wasn't good enough, that it would be stupid to pretend there was never any pressure on him.

But was it really so much Lewis' fault? Did he make Nico feel so insecure, so self-conscious, that he lost total confidence in himself? Did Lewis really do the things Nico accused him of? When he was joking around, did he take it too far? Did he take for granted that Nico would always be his inferior, and that if he didn't settle for that, they couldn't be friends?

It was understandable that Nico would do anything to win. Maybe it seems dramatic to say his life depended on it, but his emotional stability, his self-worth definitely did, and when those things go to shit, you never know how someone will cope. 

If at all.

The thought of Nico hurting himself even now makes him slightly nauseous. He fishes the phone back up from the floor. His fingers keep clumsily hitting the wrong keys as he types in his nerves. 

_You woke me up. _he texts, knowing how reckless it is, knowing it's giving him an opening to worm his way back in. He can't bring himself to care like this, sleep-deprived, nostalgic. All his usual self-restraint regarding Nico has evaporated.

The reply comes seconds later. It seems Nico too doesn't give a shit about playing their game right now, he doesn't care if he seems needy. 

_Sorry. Wouldn't have had the courage in the morning._

Lewis feels his lips twitch, but he refused to smile. The message reminds him of how Nico explained himself that first night, the one where this- them- all started.

_Lewis was invited too, but he hadn't wanted to go. He could feel a headache coming on, and he just wanted to fall into bed, especially after the less than impressive race result._

_ Nico offered to stay back in the hotel room with him, which Lewis appreciated, but he waved his friend on. He knew this was important to his friend- it wasn't like he had socialised outside of karting and got invited to parties, and he deserved to celebrate, having done a lot better than Lewis that day._

_ He took a couple paracetamol before pulling the covers up around himself, drifting into sleep at around eight o'clock, which was ridiculously early for him, and showed just how tired he was. _

_ He didn't know what time it was when Nico got back. It was pitch black outside, and Lewis felt like he'd slept for a while before being woken by the sound of Nico's keycard in the door. _

_ He opened his eyes without moving from his position, curled on his side, facing the other twin bed. _

_ Nico was drunk. He was either totally wasted, or on something much stronger than alcohol, because Lewis had seen him drunk, but he was never as unsteady as this. _

_ He kept his eyes open to make sure his friend got into bed safely. Well, he got into a bed, but not the right bed. _

_ With difficulty, Nico carefully picked his way over to Lewis' side. Lewis felt the bed dip down as Nico slid in beside him, pressing close, throwing an arm around his waist. _

_ Lewis was frozen in place. They'd never done this before. _

_"Lewis," Nico sighed into his bare shoulder. His fingertips skimmed over Lewis' abs, causing him to shiver. They stopped at the waistband of his boxers, and Lewis knew this was the moment to put an end to it._

_He didn't._

_Nico's fingers slipped into his boxers and wrapped around his half-hard cock, starting to coax him into a full erection. He covered his mouth with one hand to stop any desperate, pleading noises escaping, curling the other tightly into the sheets as his best friend touched his dick. _

_ Lewis had never done this. He had kissed more than a few girls, got pretty far into some heavy petting, but he'd never let anyone touch him here. And definitely not another guy. The thought made him flush with shame, but also desire crawled through his skin, and he could feel wetness begin to gather at the head of his dick. _

_ Up until this week, he would have said the same for his friend, but he'd seen the marks on Nico's neck the other day. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off them. They looked painful, harshly dark against Nico's smooth, pale skin, and the sight of them had set off some unnameable emotion within him. Luckily, Nico was used to him staring. He just winked. _

_ Lewis could name that emotion now as he struggled not to buck his hips. It was jealousy._

_Nico was whispering something in his ear. He was pretty sure it was German; slurring, but undeniably suggestive. He squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed Nico's wrist, trying to encourage him to pick up the pace rather than dissuade, the pleasure building and spreading out from his core. _

_ Nico took the hint going faster, and Lewis couldn't stop a surprised, choked-off moan when he came hard, trembling in his grip._

_ He came down from the high quickly enough with the realisation dawning that he'd probably just fucked up the best relationship he'd ever had. He lay there, trying to catch his breath, still clutching Nico's wrist, who was petting endearingly at his softening dick. _

_ "Okay?" Nico asked softly._

_Lewis twisted in his hold, eyes adjusting to the darkness. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at his friend, at a loss to comment. _

_ With his hand free from Lewis' grasp, Nico brought it to his mouth and began lapping come from his fingers. _

_ Lewis made a pained noise at the back of his throat, and a hopeless, helpless, _"Nico," _was all that could follow. He slumped back down, feeling suddenly exhausted. Nico curled protectively around him, and Lewis was too tired to object or pretend he didn't like the safe, comforting feeling of his best friend's body pressed against his. _

_ He woke up in something of a panic, a weight on his chest. Nico was laying precariously on top of him, his steady breaths warming the crook of Lewis' neck, arms somehow tucked under his back._

_ Fear and disgust, the latter aimed overwhelmingly at himself, made him practically fight to throw Nico off him, ignore his startled yelp, and bolt for the bathroom._

_ He sat on the edge of the bathtub, staring at his stricken reflection in the mirror. He took slow, deep breaths to calm his racing heartbeat. It wasn't working, not when the objects of his distress were one, staring at him from the mirror, and two, lying in a heap after being chucked onto the bedroom floor._

_ He needed to get out of the hotel, go for a run and clear his mind. When he crept back into the bedroom to search out some fresh clothes, Nico had climbed back into bed and promptly fallen asleep again, probably still not over his hangover._

_ That, or he similarly couldn't face Lewis right now. _

_ *_

_Lewis got lost somewhere in the foreign streets. He was so used to having Nico around as a tour guide, who either somehow already knew where everything was, or was fluent in the relevant languages to ask for directions. Lewis thought he was really clever. He kept saying it so he could make Nico blush for a change. _

_ By the time he found his way back to the hotel, it was light again, around 7am. He was drenched in sweat from having ran so hard. He felt a little better. He felt like maybe, just maybe, he could face Nico without dying of embarrassment._

_ He made his way up to the fourth floor where they were staying and psyched himself up to go in._

_Nico had tidied the room while he was out, making the beds and clearing the takeaway pizza boxes and discarded clothes from the floor. He glanced over to the far side of the room, letting the door shut behind him with a click, loud in the tense silence. _

_ Nico was sitting cross-legged on his bed, playing nervously with the hem of his t-shirt. It was Lewis' t-shirt. He wondered if that had been a conscious decision, a subconscious reach for him, or just a simple mistake and Lewis was going crazy reading too much into these things._

_ The German boy looked up at him as soon as he entered and paused at the doorway. Lewis caught his gaze. He seemed downcast, hesitant, as well as looking deathly pale and sick. _

_ "I'm sorry about last night," he said quietly._

_Lewis was immediately on the defensive. "Sorry?"_

_ Nico exhaled silently, but Lewis could see his shoulders rise and fall with a shaky breath. "I'm not sorry for what I did," he said cryptically. "I'm sorry for how I did it."_

_ Lewis frowned, trying to wrap his head around that confusing statement. His animosity towards Nico for putting him in this situation had disappeared as soon as he laid eyes on him, looking timid and unsure, wrapped in Lewis' shirt. He wanted to reassure Nico that everything would be okay, that no matter what, they'd still be friends. He didn't know how to say it, he wasn't as good with words, so he came and joined him to sit on the bed._

_ "What do you mean?" he asked. His voice wavered a little. He didn't know how to rationalise being equally petrified of being gay as he was of losing his best friend._

_ "I mean I shouldn't have come on to you like that," Nico muttered, "drunk, high, whatever. But I wouldn't have the courage otherwise."_

Lewis remembers now that Nico was brave once. From his perspective, cutting ties with people you love because it's easier to beat them that way is cowardly, but perhaps for some, it's commendable. He feels the lingering affection start to ebb away as it always does, replaced by an all-encompassing urge to forget Nico and the memories associated with him, both dark and joyful, because thinking about _how they used to be_ makes him painfully aware of _how they are now._ But it's too late for that now, he chose to get involved going down this particular avenue, and so he has to see it through.

_What do you want? _he types. 

_In person pls. _

_whatever. Come find me after the race._

_It has to be before the race. Sorry. _

_Merc garage tomorrow before quali then. ill find you. _

_Ok. Thank you x_

If the phrase 'conflicting emotions' has ever had a relevance in Lewis' life, it's in this moment. That stupid, single letter 'x' throws him more than any insult or disparaging remark ever could. In that one letter is everything he craves, yet has simultaneously already lost.

He lets the phone slip back out of his hands and thud onto the floor, burrowing deep underneath the covers. He is alone with his thoughts, now; questioning his every decision, drained of emotion, staring at the wall in the darkness until he can't keep his eyes open any more.

*

When he goes down for breakfast, yawning every couple of seconds, Seb is there. Lewis wordlessly slides into the seat beside him, resisting the urge to drop his head onto his rival's shoulder. He's tempted to steal something off Seb's plate, but there's no way it will be vegan.

"Morning, handsome," Seb winks. There's something Lewis loves about him; not only does he take the piss out of everyone else, he does it to himself. "Are you alright?"

"Not really," Lewis shrugs. He never wants to lie to Seb.

"Good. Better chance of beating you," Seb replies, nudging him with his shoulder.

Lewis tries to smile.

"You want to talk about it?" the German asks, spooning some yogurt into his mouth. 

Lewis wants advice, someone to tell him there's a definitive answer to this mess, but it's not as though Seb is unbiased when it comes to Nico and Nico-related distress.

When he's pondering his answer, Angela spots him from across the room and waves frantically.

"I have to go," Lewis mutters, touching Seb's shoulder in apology. He and Seb rarely get any time together, and suddenly, he realises with clarity he wants to change that. He remembers how happy and relaxed he's felt the rare occasions when he and Seb hang out. 

_"Will you cheer us on?" Lewis asked, grabbing some juice for himself and a beer for Seb. "Seeing as you've got no one else to cheer for."_

_"I'm a Sweden fan," Seb answered, taking the beer and opening it, taking a swig before Lewis clocked that was actually just joking._

_Seb didn't celebrate in the same way Lewis did, screeching and jumping off the sofa, but he acquiesced that Maguire's header was a beauty, and he couldn't help but smile at Lewis' unfiltered delight._

_ "It's coming home, Seb!" Lewis yelled, grabbing Seb by the front of his shirt and shaking him. They both burst out laughing. _

_ He felt ridiculously happy bearing in mind he was just sitting watching a match in his motorhome with his biggest rival. His level of contentment didn't quite seem to relate to the circumstances, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth, having felt quite down recently._

_ "What a game," he said, out of breath. When he collapsed back down onto the sofa, they were sitting much closer than before, and Seb's arm was resting behind his head._

_ "It was sickening," Seb muttered, going back into fits of laughter when Lewis thumped him on the arm. _

_ It devolved into the most childish, indulgent tickle-fight Lewis had ever taken part in, and by the end he was laughing so hard no sound was coming out apart from wheezing breaths and he had to choke out, "Stop, man, you're such a kid, stop-"_

_ Seb backed off, grinning. "I'm a kid?"_

_Lewis felt like that was the opportune moment to wrap his arms around Seb's neck and pull him down to kiss him, and with that unexpected thought, his good mood disappeared. It must have shown on his face, because Seb said, "What? Did I say something?" and Lewis felt so guilty for fucking up what would have gone down as a happy memory that he felt obliged to explain. _

_ "I'm so sorry," he said softly. "It just reminded me of... some memories. Things I used to do with... um, Nico. But it doesn't matter," he added hurriedly. Seb's expression changed from worry to a gentle, understanding smile that made Lewis' next words more difficult to get out. "I'm really happy we spent some time together today, man. Outside of racing, you know. I really like you, I want... I like to think we could be friends."_

_"We are friends, Lewis. Why do you think I am here watching England v. Sweden, drinking shit beer?"_

_Lewis snorted. "Point taken." _

_"You just go from one German driver to another, hm?"_

_Lewis snapped out of being lulled back into security, the emotional whiplash prompting him to lose his filter. "Don't," he said simply. His hand was gripping Seb's arm way too tightly. "Don't ever joke about that."_

_ Seb nodded, exhaling. "I didn't mean..."_

_ "It's not like that, okay?" Lewis muttered. He was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince Seb. He felt tired, suddenly. He was disappointed in himself for letting this happen, because they couldn't just sit and watch a game as mates without Lewis reading into some nonexistent romantic subtext and having flashbacks to a relationship that died years ago. _

Every rare time they'd hung out since then, just the two of them, Lewis had been on his guard, trying to police his own body language, trying to project the image of completely straight, macho, definitely not interested in guys, or this particular guy. Seb kept asking if everything was okay. He would put a hand on Lewis' shoulder and Lewis would find a way to shrug it off because that one, small touch was driving him insane. 

But the Ferrari driver always manages to sneak his way past the boundaries Lewis sets, whether it's topic of conversation, or personal space. He finds himself telling Seb things he didn't think he'd tell anyone ever again, about his family, his feelings, sometimes about Nicole, even hints about Nico. He finds his thigh pressed against Seb's when they sit together, Seb clapping him on the back, or the worst one-Seb's arm around his waist, to the detriment of his chances of going into cardiac arrest. And every time, his mind supplies the classic quote from GTA San Andreas: _ah shit, here we go again._

He trusts Seb. That worries him, but he swallows the fear and tells himself it's okay this time, because Seb is a good guy, and he likes Lewis, he wants to protect him.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," Angela chides, bringing him back to the present. It's playful, but there's a hint of stress there too.

"Sorry, I was..." he trails off, not even sure what excuse he could have made. 

The whole morning, he's distracted, and the team notices it.

"Focus, Lewis," Toto tells him somberly. 

Everything is better when he gets into the car. He can forget. The only things that matter are his feet on the pedals, guiding the steering wheel beneath his gloved hands. The racing line, spotting the right opportunities. The braking zones, changing the setups, nursing the tyres. Communicating in short, succinct messages over the radio. The engine and wind loud in his ears, muffled by the familiar weight of his helmet.

It's all so natural. 

"Second fastest, Lewis, well done," Bono's voice crackles through the radio.

But second fastest is not fastest, so he doesn't sound too enthusiastic when he thanks the team.

Lewis drags out going to meet Nico. He climbs leisurely out of the car, unzipping his racing suit and removing his helmet all a lot slower than he normally would. He takes a long drink from his water bottle, glancing at the telemetry over his engineer's shoulder. 

Toto catches him by the elbow and says, "You know Nico is outside?" in a tone that manages to be incredulous, accusing, and warning all at once. He knows Nico would only be there if Lewis had allowed it, having made it clear that he never wants to see Nico in the Mercedes garage again, despite how much Toto is fond of him. 

"Yes, I know," Lewis sighs, aware he can't put it off any longer. He wipes his sweating palms on his thighs and steps outside. 

There are a few personnel and fans milling around, and then there's just Nico, nonchalant, leaning against the wall, looking off somewhere in the distance and not realising Lewis is here yet. 

He takes a second to prepare himself, calmly notes Nico's simple black shirt unbuttoned at the neck, white trousers with hands tucked into his pockets, paddock pass hung around his neck, wind ruffling gently at his hair.

He takes a step forward to put himself into Nico's peripheral vision, already deciding he isn't going to be the first to speak. 

Nico turns, and Lewis doesn't miss the way his eyes widen a little before he quickly masks his surprise with a rueful smile. 

"Lewis," he says. He makes no attempt for a handshake or _God forbid, _a hug, but there's a warmth in his voice that Lewis once doubted would ever be directed at him again. And if Lewis listens really close, there's a bizarre note of relief, which he can't even begin to analyse.

_Interesting, _he thinks. 

He smiles back, but it's only an expectant, challenging quirk of the lips, as opposed to any genuine pleasure over this encounter. No; there's only a bone-deep yearning, and a white hot anger that sparks through him when he lays eyes on Nico these days.

"Are you okay to talk here?" Nico asks. 

_Okay? _Lewis thinks wildly. _No. None of this is okay. I can't even look at you._

"Yeah," he says shortly, folding his arms. 

Nico inhales, holds his breath for a second. Lewis likes to see him squirm. He wasn't going to offer any small talk to make this less awkward. 

"I just want to preface what I'm going to tell you by saying this isn't a joke and-"

"Don't worry, I'd never accuse you of making a joke."

Nico doesn't even look hurt, he just carried on because he was expecting it. "And I need you to hear me out."

He looks distressed. Whatever he has to say must have been extremely important for him to make himself look this much of a needy bitch.

Lewis shrugs in an invitation for Nico to get to the point. 

Someone walks past, and Nico watches them go, which takes a painstakingly long time, before he opens his mouth to explain.

"I know you believe things happen for a reason and, you're a Christian, and all of this kind of thing. So I am honestly praying that you will believe me. I know things are not good between us. I'm sorry," he broke off at the look of skepticism that had appeared on Lewis' face. "That was an understatement. We're not... we're not very close any more. But I still care about you. You should know that after everything, I think about you, I want you to win and be happy."

He stops. He can't take his eyes off the hurt in Lewis' face, the raw fury that passes over his features and is masked in a fraction of a terrible second.

"Why the fuck did you ask me here, Nico?" Lewis says. His nails are digging into his arms and his voice wavers with the rollercoaster of emotion Nico just put him through. 

"I think something is going to happen tomorrow," Nico says carefully. "I think Seb is going to spin off the track."

Lewis barks out an incredulous laugh. "That's it?" The danger in his voice is audible.

Nico grimaces, wanting to give up, to run away with his tail between his legs, but determined to see it through. "He's going to spin off the track and hit you. Not your car. You. At one hundred kph Seb is going to hit you and you are going to go flying."

Lewis' jaw drops. He's waiting for Nico to break into a grin and thump him on the back, asking how he could be so gullible, and then Lewis is going to knock him out; he's going to forget how important it is not to be the Big Bad Black Guy and he's going to beat the living shit out of the bastard.

"I'm not joking," Nico says quietly. "I'm not playing games. I swear to you. On my kids' lives I truly believe it's going to happen." 

Lewis recovers the ability to speak, but when he does, his voice is barely there. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Do I sound like I am?" Nico raises his voice, getting frustrated. "I know it sounds crazy. You're not the first person to say that."

"Well who the fuck was?!"

"Jenson," Nico sighs. "He thought I should tell you. I can't... I can't do this. I knew you wouldn't listen."

"Are you, like, mentally sound? Are you still seeing a therapist? Because you really need-"

"I saw you," Nico interrupts. Lewis actually stops, because Nico's tone has taken on this dead quality, this terrifying lack of inflection, and he's looking away from Lewis down at the floor, and it's so scary it shocks him into silence.

"In my dream. There's an engine failure, so you pull over. It's Lap 38 and you just passed the pit lane so you carry on to Bruxelles because the tarmac there is safer, you know, fewer cars likely to end up there. It's been raining on and off... very dark, cloudy. And you're mad, your race is fucked, you had P1 by then, so you are not thinking straight. I don't know, I can't read your mind. You get out of the car. I think your engineer told you to as well. There's damage, the engine is smoking. I don't..." his voice starts to crack but he doesn't stop, in that same, lifeless voice. "Seb doesn't see you until it's too late. You aren't even looking. You're so angry, storming away. His brakes lock up and he tries to swerve but he can't. He can't."

Nico takes a deep, shuddering breath. The pain in his eyes when he looks up is real. "He hits you. You are just a human being, you go up into the air, you slam into the barriers. You know, as much as Seb has it in for me," he says this with a humourless smile, "I never felt so sorry for a person as I did when I saw that. The only thing he can say is... 'I can't look'. Over and over again so all of us, press, fans, can hear it. 'I can't look'. Of course he can't. You're his friend. He's probably killed you and he doesn't want to see what shape you're in. Well, I did see," he croaks. "Once. I didn't warn you after the first couple of dreams, so this time it was a little different, making a point. I'm there too. And I walk right up to you and take off your helmet, so I can see your face. Your face, Lewis... I knew it was you but I couldn't tell. I swear, you could barely tell. You're so... you're so broken and there's so much blood. Teeth. Things are in the wrong place, your arms-"

He's getting hysterical now. He wills himself to calm down, to finish the story, because Lewis is just staring at him. 

"I never have nightmares," Nico finishes wretchedly. "That was... I mean, you have them, right? I don't. But for the past three nights I've had the same nightmare, over and over. I couldn't tell them from reality. And that's because they _are_ reality. I don't believe in this type of thing but I know you do. I know you're listening to me now and you don't want to believe me because you hate me but I'm here," Nico whispers, "because I don't hate _you._ I really, really don't. I don't want to see you die. Not for real."


	3. all that fear and all that pressure

Seb wanted to catch Lewis after FP3 so he could check up on him, since they hadn't had the chance to talk that morning. He knows most of the Mercedes crew wouldn't care if he rolled up searching for Lewis but he still feels a bit wary seeing as his team are... were their biggest rivals. 

"Sebastian," Toto smiles, "Are you looking for Lewis?"

"Yeah," Seb answers. "Do you know-?"

Toto looks hesitant. "Well. He is actually talking to Nico."

"What? Which-"

_"Our_ Nico," Toto clarifies, expression innocent, tone belying his pride. "I would say, don't interrupt, but someone probably needs to check they are not killing each other."

Seb stares at him, realising he's only half joking. "Right," he decides. "That will be me, then. Where...?"

"Just outside," Toto inclines his head in the right direction. "I'd go, but I've already spent far too much time in my life trying to mediate between them."

Seb gets outside and notices them straight away- they've always made quite the striking pair- but they're too engaged in heated conversation to notice him. He tries to make out what they're saying, but Nico has his back turned to Seb, and Lewis just looks extremely distressed.

"Fancy seeing you here," he calls out. 

Nico turns round. Neither of them look exactly relieved to see him, but he shrugs it off.

"Why wasn't I invited to this catch-up?" he asks with a grin, knowing exactly why he wasn't invited. 

"Um, hi, Seb," Nico says awkwardly. He glances back to Lewis, whose folded arms and furrowed brow prove the conversation topic wasn't casual. "I was just..."

"It's okay, we're done now," Lewis interrupts. 

Nico looks at him, and the expression on his face is so pleading, so reproachful and hurt, that Seb suddenly feels like he shouldn't be here watching them. And he's also pissed on Lewis' behalf, that Nico is still here, still making things difficult, still making it hard for Lewis to get over him. 

"Hast du nicht genug getan?" he asks coolly. _Haven't you done enough?_

Nico goes from pleading to angry. "I'm trying to help."

Seb looks at Lewis for confirmation, and the Brit only shrugs, huffing out a breath. "He _thinks_ he's trying to help," Lewis says, pointedly adding, "He isn't."

"Maybe you should go back to the garage," Seb tells him quietly. His eyes don't leave Nico. 

"Seb, I don't know what you think is going on here," Nico says, struggling to stay calm. 

"Du hast ihn verletzt, aber du kannst ihn trotzdem nicht in Ruhe lassen," Seb shakes his head. _You hurt him, but you still can't leave him alone._

"I'm trying to help," Nico repeats incredulously. "Lewis, come on, even if you don't believe me, you know I'm- _Lewis,"_ he finishes desperately when he gets no reaction. "Why would I..."

"Wirst du einfach gehen?"_ Will you just go?_

"No."

"Lewis hat genug gelitten." _Lewis has suffered enough._

"Yeah," Nico snaps, stubbornly refusing to answer in German. "And he'll suffer more if he doesn't listen to me. And so will you."

Lewis shakes his head, unfolding his arms and leaning against the wall. "Nico, I heard you out. It's done now."

"But you don't believe me," Nico whispers, clenching his fists. He's practically vibrating with frustration. It's not quite satisfying, but it brings Seb some savage joy to see Nico even half as upset as Lewis has been. Him and Nico, they've never been the best of friends, but Seb respects him. He knows Nico respects him also. Since forever, they've clashed over what they think is best for Lewis.

"Du machst das noch schlimmer," Seb warns. _You make it worse._

"Du hast keine Ahnung!" Nico cries, losing his patience, taking a step closer to Seb. _You have no idea!_

Lewis shifts away from him uncomfortably. 

"Erzähl mir dann. Sagen Sie mir, worüber Sie mit ihm sprechen wollten." _Then tell me, tell me what you wanted to talk to him about._

Nico shakes his head. "I can't. I can't."

"Weil es nichts als Lügen gibt." _Because there is nothing but lies._

"Can you guys speak English?" Lewis says incredulously. 

"Es ist nicht das. Niemand sonst kann es wissen," Nico tries to explain- _it's not that. Nobody else can know- _but Seb isn't having it. He can't honestly believe that Nico is here for any reason other than to throw Lewis off his game.

"Er wird es mir trotzdem sagen," he tells Nico. _He will tell me anyway. _He wanted to be mature, to stop them arguing, but he can't help but throw that cruel remark in there. "Er vertraut mir, Nico, verstehst du?" _He trusts me, Nico, do you understand? _

"Ist mir egal." _I don't care._

"Guys-"

"Sie wissen, dass Sie einen Fehler gemacht haben. Du willst ihn zurück, aber es wird nie passieren."

_You know you made a mistake. You want him back, but it will never happen._

Lewis balls his hands into fists, gritting his teeth as he watches the conversation unfold.

"Ich sorge mich um ihn. Ich möchte, dass er in Sicherheit ist."

_I'm worried about him, I want him to be safe._

"Du hast dich nie um ihn gekümmert."

_You never cared for him. _

Seb knows he's crossed the line, and even Lewis glances sharply up at Nico to see his reaction.

"Just _shut_ up," Nico hisses, voice cracking. He closes his eyes and says quietly, resignedly, "Ich liebe ihn so sehr, dass es weh tut, ihn überhaupt anzusehen."

_...I love him so much that it hurts to even look at him._

Seb doesn't answer, only stares at him, pitying. Nico looks wrecked, on the verge of tears and tearing his hair out.

"Well I'm sure that was an enlightening conversation," Lewis bites out, furious. "Don't fucking talk about me like I'm not standing right here."

Seb has the grace to look a little embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck. He imagines how dramatic and unnecessary that whole scene would have seemed to Lewis. He wonders if Lewis could pick up what Nico just said, even if he didn't speak the same language.

Nico looks up at the sky. His eyes glisten with frustrated tears, but he manages to will them not to fall.

"Let's just go, yeah," Lewis mutters, not sparing either of them a glance as he brushes past them on the way back to the garages.

Seb is left standing there, curiously watching Nico struggle to regain his composure. 

"Hey," he ventures.

"Don't bother," Nico snaps, almost as though he hadn't been about to cry. "You think you're helping him, but you're really not. I thought you... we..."

Seb knows instantly what he's talking about. He thought they had an understanding.

_"Nico."_

_He kept walking. Seb didn't let it put him off; he knew he sometimes crossed the line with Nico, and he wouldn't be in the mood for any banter right now._

_"Nico," Seb repeated, jogging after him. He caught up to the other German, whose shoulders were hunched and eyes down, cap pulled low over his face._

_"What do you want?" Nico muttered. He didn't bother to talk in their native tongue, because it would imply some kind of camaraderie with Seb and he wasn't feeling particularly affectionate towards him right now. He kept walking until Seb stood right in front of him and stopped him from going anywhere with a firm hand on his shoulder._

_Nico met his gaze with barely veiled fury. "I'm not in the mood for games, Seb. I want to get back. I just want to go home."_

_"Something happened," Seb observed, ignoring him._

_Nico gritted his teeth, but he didn't deny it._

_"You were at the party..." Seb mused._

_Nico's jaw clenched._

_"Mark's had a bit too much to drink," he spat eventually. "His mouth ran away with him. He made some... insinuations. About me and Lewis. And Lewis really didn't like it. So he said some things about me, everyone joined in... you can imagine... you would have loved it."_

_"What kind of things?" Seb asked, frowning now. He glanced over Nico's shoulder to across the street where the party was being hosted. The party he was on his way to, slightly late and reluctant, and hearing now what had been going on. Nico was sensitive, he always had been. He was hopeless at taking a joke. But his hands were clenched into fists, an angry tremor running through him, a nervous, restless energy, that made Seb worry where exactly he was going now, what he was going to do._

_"What do you think?" Nico laughed, devoid of humour._

_"Listen, Nico..." Seb muttered, catching the other German by the arm to try and drive the point home. "You shouldn't listen to them. It doesn't matter who you... who you're with, or what you look like, or how you got here. You're here, you deserve to be, so just keep your head up."_

_Nico looked up at him, faintly surprised. "Well, thank you."_

_"I'm not being nice," Seb grinned._

_"Of course not," Nico gave a half smile, but it faded quickly and he glanced away. " It's not them I have the problem with, Seb."_

_Seb tapped his arm until Nico looked at him again, showing that he was listening._

_"It's Lewis. He's always been like this."_

_"Like what?"_

_"Like..." Nico looked hesitant. "You know we're... you know we..."_

_"Fuck?" Seb managed to get out, exhaling in silent laughter at Nico's pained look._

_"Yes," he said disapprovingly. He slipped into German to articulate better, talking uncomfortably but quickly as though it was a secret that had to be confessed. "Since we were much younger. He's never been okay with- with liking men. I mean, so far as I know, I'm the only... So he pretends to be all-" he huffed, "macho, the epitome of masculinity. At my expense. Because when everyone's mocking me, I don't mind, as long as I have Lewis to... to make it worth it. I don't. He'll just join in. It's not a proper relationship, not when he's ashamed of it."_

_Seb didn't know what to say. He let his hand fall from its grip on Nico's arm to give him space, but Nico saw_ _ it as disapproval._

_"God, I'm sorry," he muttered. "I shouldn't have told you that."_

_He turned away. _

_"No, Nico, no, wait," Seb called. "Sorry. I don't know what to say. I never thought of it like that."_

_Nico blinked back at him, looking downcast and miserable._

_"Hey. I didn't want to go to that shit party anyway. Why don't we have a couple of beers, and then I'll drive you back to your hotel?"_

_He looked at Seb calculatingly, trying to see if he was messing him around. "It's late..."_

_"Yeah, but you look fucking miserable. I want to see if I can cheer you up. Come on, what's the harm? Just us German boys, yeah?"_

_Nico rolled his eyes. He looked back to the building he'd come from, and then back at Seb. Then he shrugged, and nodded._

That night was a turning point. It was when Seb had started to see Nico more as a kind of lost, emotional, slightly fragile person instead of this irritating, entitled brat who tried to pass himself off as German but just... wasn't. He kept up with the jokes, he was never going to stop, but they had an understanding. A newfound respect for each other that served them well during the years to come, where tensions between Nico and Lewis were so high. He'd even consider them friends, because the few times they've seen each other around since Nico retired, it's been amicable and a lot more relaxed.

Seb brings himself back to the present. Thinking about the brief times they'd bonded and actually enjoyed each other's company, and also how dedicated Nico was to Lewis, calms him down and makes him more tolerant of Nico just appearing like this.

"If you care about Lewis," Nico tries, "and if he does tell you what I said, tell him to listen to me."

"Why can't you just tell me what's going on?" Seb asks. He doesn't understand why Nico is acting so cryptically. But then, it's not exactly out of character.

"Why would I need to, when you and Lewis are such good buddies that he will share everything with you anyway?" Nico counters. He seems to realise and regret the bitterness in his tone. He sighs, long-suffering, exhausted. "I'm going to leave. I'll be around tomorrow. I know you'll want to talk to me."

"Why's that?" Seb laughs. 

Nico doesn't smile, levelling him with an unimpressed look. Seb bites his lip to stop himself from grinning because he's seen that look before a million times and he missed it. He's surprised that he did.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," he shrugs, clapping Nico on the shoulder and turning away to find Lewis. 

*

"Are you okay?"

Seb puts a hand on the small of Lewis' back to turn him around and the way Lewis won't even meet his eyes properly worries him. The Brit shakes his head, keeps walking.

"Lewis," Seb insists, falling into step beside him.

He stops suddenly, in the middle of the pit lane, surrounded by people. Once he looks up at Seb, he's frozen in place, expression fraught with worry and stress.

"You can tell me anything," Seb says. There is something about Lewis that takes his breath away, takes the cynicism out of his train of thought and turns it into endorphin-rush affection. He wants to put his hand on Lewis' cheek, trace the shell of his ear with his thumb. He doesn't think Lewis would appreciate it. There's always this horrible boundary of distance between them, because he thinks Lewis is scared of getting too close to someone again.

"I_ know,"_ Lewis replies. He's looking at Seb with a steady determination, as though he said something very different to those two simple words. 

Someone is yelling Seb's name. Lewis' eyes flicker to the clock; they have to get back to their garages.

"Can we meet later?" he asks.

"Of course," Seb agrees, relieved. "Come to my room. What do you want to drink? Or eat?"

"I'll bring something," Lewis replies, and Seb is happy to see his mouth quirk into a small smile. "I'll see you later, then."

*

Seb gets his head down, all thoughts focused on the lap. He always tries not to think about how important it is to show he's still in the game, but sometimes the pressure gets to him so much that he makes stupid mistakes.

The weather is better now than it was yesterday and is predicted to be tomorrow. Minutes after Seb's first hot lap, Kubica's engine fails and the session gets red flagged. A few drivers end up being unable to set a time but it doesn't give Seb or any of the top 6 much of an advantage. Lewis ended up beating Bottas this time, not by much, but Seb knows he'll be pleased having struggled to match him this weekend until now. 

Charles beat Seb's lap by a second and a half. 

Q2 sees Charles beating Bottas to P2, with Lewis still fastest. The team is getting more and more enthusiastic every week as their race pace improves. It's good, it's motivating, but increases the pressure. Sometimes, though, pressure can be a good thing, because Seb ends up ahead of Bottas in P3, with the Ferraris splitting the Mercedes, and that's where he'll be tomorrow.

*

When he gets back to the hotel room, he sends Lewis a text to tell him to come up whenever. Lewis is the only driver on the grid apart from Charles ([for extremely specific reasons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20181742)) who has his number. Seb had always wanted to keep his personal life separate from his career, but it's been difficult when he's been wanting so badly for Lewis to blur the line between them.

He has to laugh at himself, checking his hair in the mirror, straightening his collar like a schoolboy waiting for his crush to arrive. He's restless, worried about Lewis and trying to figure out what Nico must have said that rattled the Brit so much. He's seen them interact on rare occasions since Nico retired, and Lewis always comes out of it with this subtle disdain and irritation written over his face. But whatever Nico said this time, it didn't irritate Lewis, it shocked him.

There's a series of quiet taps at the door. He counts out the seconds before he gets up to open it.

"Hey, man."

That smile. Seb lets him in. 

"I didn't bring anything that you'd like," Lewis tells him guiltily. He holds up a granola bar. Seb looks disgusted.

"Room service," he decides, calling and asking for them to bring up some snacks because he's starving and wine because he needs to wind down.

"Sit on the bed, it's way more comfortable," Seb says without thinking, then shrugs. It's just a bed. A huge, king size bed that they can both easily fit on and talk about difficult relationships like they're teenage girls at a sleepover.

Lewis hesitates. He unwraps the granola bar and starts to chew on it, looking pensively at the bed as though he doesn't realise Seb is watching him do it, then makes the decision just to go and sit down and stop being so uptight. 

"You look really stressed," Seb notes softly. He sits on the edge of the bed, giving Lewis some space but also not wanting to get comfortable yet because he'll have to get up to answer the door. 

Lewis sighs. He rubs his hands over his face, a gesture that makes Seb long to reach out to him. 

"Come on. Tell me what happened."

Lewis shakes his head. "You're never going to believe it."

"Trust me."

"I do."

There, again, Lewis reiterating the fact that he trusts him. It makes affection and protectiveness rise up inside him and threaten to make him say something silly, way too soon.

"Basically, he told me he's having this recurring dream that ends up with me dying," Lewis starts. Seb forces himself not to react, not that there's any way he could properly express his confusion, disbelief, and indignation right now.

"But it's really realistic and he wanted to warn me about the race tomorrow, because he actually believes something bad is going to happen to me," Lewis finishes, sounding tired.

Seb feels he's frowning trying to work out what to say, what he actually even thinks of this. "And you believe him?" he questions.

Lewis looks pained. "I... I believe he honestly thinks it's going to happen. I don't know if _I_ believe it's going to happen."

"Well, it's not. That would be stupid. People can't just predict the future."

"Yeah, but I believe in... I don't know. I think there are things we can't explain and we shouldn't try. And maybe it's tempting fate to ignore him."

Seb wrinkles his nose. "Lewis- it sounds like he needs some help."

Lewis laughs humourlessly. "Yeah, that's what I said. I've seen Nico mad before, but that was like... he was gonna do something crazy if I didn't listen. And then the fight just went out of him... he just gave up. He never... I thought at first he was just trying to get under my skin. But I don't see why he'd do this if he didn't believe it."

Seb finds it difficult to argue even though he'd been set to go on a rant about how Nico just can't stand to see Lewis being happy and successful without him.

"Okay," he says slowly, kind of pissed that Lewis is giving this shit the time of day, "but that's just Nico going insane, it doesn't mean you need to take his weird dreams seriously." He scoffs. "It's guilt, Lewis. He feels guilty so his..." he takes a second to think of the word, "so his subconscious is making him dream about you, and bad things happening to you."

"But what if he's right?" Lewis whispers.

Seb flails around for an answer but can't find one. The anger drains out of him. He remembers the desperation on Nico's face, the shadow of doubt and insecurity he hadn't picked up at first, but should have, because time was, Nico _only_ looked doubtful and hurt and insecure.

"I don't even think Nico was sure," Lewis adds quietly. "But he went out of his way to warn me, just in case." _Because he cares about you still. Because he 'loves you so much it hurts to look at you'._

Seb exhales, brow furrowed in worry and thought. It is complicated. It would be so easy to tell Lewis to ignore Nico (he's said it enough already), but it's as Nico said: if he really cares, he should tell Lewis to listen. Because at the end of the day, it is completely, wholly irrelevant whether Lewis is _actually_ going to die tomorrow or not. They've been given an opportunity to avoid the risk, and they'd be idiots not to take it.

"Fine," Seb backs down. "How are you going to avoid it, then? How does it go down?"

Lewis opens his mouth to answer, but hesitates, thinking carefully. "I don't think I should tell you, in case you try and influence what happens."

Seb folds his arms and says coolly, "Yeah, but I'm going to influence what happens so you don't _die."_

Lewis shakes his head. "Say I avoid racing tomorrow. I won't ever know if it was a real premonition or not, and neither will Nico, and I think that would really terrify him."

He takes a deep breath. "I want to go ahead with the race. I know exactly how it's supposed to happen, and how to avoid... you know. Dying. I know what I have to do."

Seb gets it, but all he wants to tell Lewis to do is forget it. _Don't race, then. Don't risk it. _

"If something happens to you," Seb starts. He's surprised to find he can't even finish the sentence. His throat closes up with emotion, with panic just at the thought of losing Lewis. He shakes his head, closing his eyes, trying to will the images of a potential crash away.

Lewis looks up at him, an unidentifiable emotion plain in his open expression. Seb wants it to mean that the Brit feels the same way. He's spent so long trying to get Lewis to open up to him, to trust him. Is it going to be today that the emotion spills over and they stop dancing around each other?

There's a knock at the door to interrupt the moment. Seb goes to get the food, thanking them. He goes to the kitchen area and pours himself a glass, setting the assortment of expensive snacks out on the bedside table. He takes a few bites to settle his rumbling stomach, has a mouthful, and settles properly next to Lewis, resting his back against the headboard, his hands on his lap, while Lewis lays stretched out. 

He studies Lewis for a second while he chews, who returns his gaze openly.

"Do you ever miss him?" Seb asks. He tries so hard not to sound jealous. He's not actually jealous of their relationship- it was awful. Anyone around the grid from 2013-2016 could have seen that. Seb actually remembers talking to Jenson about it; that they had a thing when they were younger, it kind of... faded away when Nico moved on and got with Vivian, but since they'd become teammates, the proximity had made it all come back to the surface- except the innocence of young love was gone.

Still, Seb has always envied how well Nico knows Lewis. How close he's got to him. How much time and influence he has or had in Lewis' life.

Lewis sighs, his gaze flickering downward. "... Yes and no. Sometimes I felt like his life's goal was to make my life harder."

Seb's lips twitch.

"Other times, were just... I don't think anyone will ever love me as much as Nico did."

"Does," Seb corrects. Lewis turns his head to look at him curiously, frowning.

Seb shrugs. Let it never be said he didn't respect his countryman, as far as Nico could actually be considered his countryman.

"I spoke to him, after you left," he says carefully. Lewis rolls onto his stomach and puts his chin on one hand.

"He wants you to be friends again."

Lewis scoffs. "As though it's that easy. We haven't spoken in years. It got to the point where Toto was physically separating us from being at each others' throats all the time."

"I know," Seb answers patiently. "He told me if I cared about you, I'd tell you to listen to what he said."

Lewis looks away, conflicted.

"So I guess you should listen to what he said," Seb finishes, smiling crookedly.

Lewis meets his gaze again and Seb is delighted to watch his lips part in surprise as he begins to understand.

This is it. He's waited years. He waited even longer before he realised what he was feeling. Now he can act on it.

"Seb, I-"

"Are you cold?" Seb asks innocently. "I'm cold."  
  
Lewis catches on, but he isn't mad, just exasperated. "Yeah?"

"Come on. Come and warm me up," he says, tongue between his teeth, because there's nothing he likes more than banter with Lewis, and there's a feeling of contentment and anticipation spreading out across his whole body for being this close and this intimate.

Lewis slides off the bed and impatiently gestures for Seb to do the same so he can pull back the covers and settle underneath them.

He's sitting up against the headboard with one arm laying across it for Seb to settle against.

"No, lie down. You can spoon me. Or I can spoon you."

Lewis flushes. He fights back a defensive comment. This is Seb; not a reporter looking to question his masculinity.

He slides down till he's laying on his back. The way he looks up at Seb, lips slightly parted, makes Seb's stomach flip; vulnerable and hesitant.

Seb slips in next to him and Lewis rolls to press his chest against Seb's back, nosing at the curls of hair at the nape of his neck.

"Shit. You really were cold," Lewis frowns, wincing as Seb's ice cold fingers tangle with his.

Seb squeezes Lewis' hands. He finds it kind of funny that Lewis knew he was just looking for an excuse to cuddle.

"I wish we'd done this sooner," he confesses.

"Done what?" Lewis whispers, shuffling closer so he's really flush against him.

"Held each other."

Lewis snorts, but his grip around Seb's waist gets tighter. "Why didn't you say something?"

Seb exhales, frowning. Where does he begin?

"It's okay," Lewis says. "I know why."

He thumbs gently over Seb's wrist and presses a gentle kiss to his neck.

"Are you gay?" he asks quietly.

Seb closes his eyes.

"It's fine," Lewis adds awkwardly. "Obviously. I mean, I'm not a hypocrite." He laughs nervously and starts to draw back, but Seb digs his nails into the backs of Lewis' hands so he can't move away. He gently pulls Lewis' hands off his waist and pushes him to lie on his back, and Seb lays half on top of him so they can have this conversation face to face.

Seb didn't have any kind of groundbreaking revelation that he liked men, or spent his teenage years uninterested in girls, or got bullied out of the boys' changing rooms for being gay. He's always liked women, preferred them. He only realised he was open to the idea of being with, having sex with, another man, when he began to develop feelings for one. It's not happened often, and it hasn't happened as drastically, as all-consuming, as it has with Lewis, especially over the last few years.

He wants to explain it to Lewis. He's confident in his sexuality, Lewis doesn't have to worry about that. To Seb, being gay doesn't even come into it. Lewis' gender is completely irrelevant- or, it's definitely not a deal breaker, even though it makes things a little more difficult. But he knows that's not the case for Lewis; that he's spent years coming to terms with himself and his preferences, that Seb flippantly dismissing the whole idea of sexuality would just go down like a lead balloon.

"Not as such," he replies carefully.

Lewis swallows. "Okay. That's okay too."

_I think I'm in love with you. I'm falling in love with you. I love you. I have feelings for you._ All these things he's thought about saying, but none of them feel fair right now.

"I will never walk away from you," Seb says instead.

Several emotions flit across Lewis' face. Surprise. Hope. Fear.

"How can you say that?" he answers, measured, but the way his hands shake a little as they find their way back to Seb's waist says it all.

"Because I watched other people do it," Seb answers simply. "And I swore I'd never hurt you like that."

Lewis loops an arm around Seb's neck, and they're so close now Seb can feel Lewis' breath against his lips.

"I always manage to fuck things up," Lewis warns him. His eyes keep flickering down to Seb's mouth, just as Seb's flicker to Lewis' tattoos and the inviting parts of his skin that aren't covered by his t-shirt.

"I'm sure you will," Seb grins. "But I'll still be here."

Lewis closes his eyes.

Seb closes the distance between them, brushing his lips against Lewis', feather light and questioning.  
  
Lewis hand cups the back of his neck and he returns the kiss, unhurried and exploratory. When Lewis' lips part, Seb runs his tongue over Lewis' teeth, and the hands on his waist grip him tighter.

A thought lingers in Seb's mind, one that's been forming for a while. It's about what they would be without racing. He's always known that he's no one special, just an average guy with a lucky talent for driving and football and languages- he's pretty good at those. Without F1, he would be doing something out of the spotlight, laidback and normal. But Lewis is one of those rare, magical people in life that you meet and you know they were destined for great things. Having Lewis here like this is kind of like having an expensive, breakable, thousand-year-old antique in your hands- it's beautiful, and you want to enjoy it, but you have to be so, so careful not to let it fall.

How can he put it into words? He can't right now. He tries to put it into the kiss instead, cradling Lewis' face with his hands, kissing slow and deep instead of rushed and needy.  
  
Seb feels Lewis' cock through his joggers pressing at the juncture of his thigh, and it makes a shudder run through him. But he makes sure to keep it slow, despite the tension he feels building in his gut, and Lewis getting more restless beneath him. He can't help but get his hand under Lewis' shirt and trail it down his chest and stomach, rubbing at the light dusting of hair that leads down to the waistband of his pants.

"Take your shirt off," Lewis murmurs against Seb's mouth.

Seb sighs. "No," he whispers, touching his forehead to Lewis', feeling terrible when Lewis flinches.

"I want to take it slow," Seb explains. He doesn't care how sappy he sounds; he knows Lewis is a secret romantic and loves it. "Take care of you. Take you on a date. Dates. We're not having sex and then pretending none of this happened."

Lewis feels called out. "Right," he mutters.

Seb can't help but smile. "You realise the self control it took to say that?"

Lewis grins back. "You want it that bad, huh?"

"Yep," Seb answers, popping the p, leaning down for another kiss, a little more messy and impassioned.

He pulls away before he loses the determination to stop himself grinding back against Lewis' hips.

"Man, I feel like a sixteenth century Catholic king trying to resist his fiancée before their wedding night," Lewis mutters.

Seb bursts out laughing. Lewis looks secretly delighted.

"I need the bathroom," he adds, glad it isn't so obvious he's blushing.

Seb raises his eyebrows.

Lewis wants to laugh, but he's starting to come back to himself a little and the urge to put distance between them is overpowering. He wordlessly gets to the bathroom and closes the door behind him, sliding down to the floor and sighing shakily.

He could take care of his erection but it's already wilting when he thinks about how easily this could all go wrong. He's absolutely petrified he's going to mess up.

"You want me to talk you through it?" Seb calls. "My dirty talk needs some work-"

"Seb, shut up," Lewis wheezes. "I'm not... that's not what I'm doing. I'll be out in a minute," he sighs.

He's proud when his voice doesn't tremble, but inside, he's a mess. His heart is racing and he feels light-headed, and his limbs feel detached from his body.  
  
He cannot, will not, go through all that shit again. Fucking is one thing. He's okay with that, although one thing leads to another. Going on a date? Sharing a bed? Waking up next to each other... he feels his stomach churning in anxiety at the very thought.  
  
How the fuck is he supposed to explain any of this to Seb?  
  
If this was Nico, he'd take one look at Lewis and know exactly what was running through his mind. But it isn't Nico. It never will be Nico and quite honestly he doesn't want it to be. There's too much pain; literally everything he is doing with Seb, he's already done a million times with Nico. He can't help but compare.  
  
It was a little different with Nicole. He felt more in control. He didn't feel as though he was being consumed by a need for her. He kept his distance and that's why it fell apart.  
  
Lewis swore off serious relationships. He's happy to take a beautiful girl home once in a while. But sitting here on the bathroom floor, a trembling mess over just one simple kiss, he's powerless watching it all happen again.  
  
"Lewis. Let me help you through your intimacy issues," Seb deadpans on the other side of the door.  
  
"I don't-" Lewis answers defensively. He gives in, standing up to open the door.  
  
Seb faces him. His smile has a hint of sadness, of pity, like he knows how fucked up Lewis is.  
  
Lewis can't stand it. He grabs Seb by his shirt and kisses him, eyes screwed shut, willing his brain to focus only on the feeling of Seb's lips parting for him to slip his tongue into his mouth, Seb's hands coming to rest at his hips, steady and reassuring.  
  
He tries to push Seb back towards the bed, but the German isn't having it. He breaks the kiss off, still holding Lewis by his hips, connected by Lewis' hands gripping his shirt.  
  
"I am not rushing into this," Seb says in a low voice. He rests their foreheads together.  
  
"Okay," Lewis mumbles. "Okay. Sorry, I was just..."  
  
He feels awkward, embarrassed at having practically jumped Seb after having an anxiety attack in the bathroom over an innocent kiss.  
  
He pulls away. Seb lets him go.

"I care about you a lot," Seb says. "I want to do this right."  
  
Lewis blinks, unsure how to answer. He's lost in thought, a thousand doubts coming to mind.  
  
_ This is a bad idea. He will get sick of you. You are terrible at relationships. You don't know how to love someone properly. You are too distant. You get obsessed. You are controlling. You can't get hurt again._  
  
"You should go back to your room," Seb says not unkindly. He takes Lewis hands in his, something so shockingly intimate about the gesture. "I will see you tomorrow and then we will make arrangements to see each other more. How does that sound?"

He lets himself relax, the tension ebbing slowly out of his body.  
  
"Good," Lewis says. He huffs, smiling. "Good. You're right. I want to do this properly too."  
  
Seb pulls him closer by tugging on his hands and fits their lips together, chaste, promising.  
  
Lewis doesn't mind letting him go after he pulls away, thumbs tracing over Lewis' palms, and leaves.  
  
No wild, passionate sex. No embarrassing, shameful desperation. No awkward, stilted conversation ending in their ruined friendship.  
  
Lewis feels so full of happiness that he can't fight the smile off his face as he walks down the corridor. He dares to hope that maybe it could work. Maybe Seb is the person he has been looking for, someone who can love him for who he is.  
  
When his phone buzzes with a text as he's standing in the elevator, the sender doesn't surprise him. Trust Nico to put a downer on his mood.  
  
_ Please think about what I said. woke up from the dream again. it's worse every time_

  
_ I am thinking about it. The problem is I don't trust you any more_

  
_ i know. I hate it. X_

He's already made the decision to keep himself in the car tomorrow, if everything that Nico says is going to happen, does. That doesn't mean he needs to ease Nico's anxieties just yet. He knows it's bordering on evil, but he's bitter and angry still. He's conflicted and emotionally confused. Seeing Nico again and being almost civil with him, learning that he cares enough to do this- it's fucking him up.

And deep down, there's something else that's bothering him: why the universe gave_ Nico_ these premonitions, why the responsibility to save Lewis' life fell specifically to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait everyone. i've had a lot going on, but i also want to take time and make this story the best it can be! the best tribute to lewis and nico that i could attempt. i appreciate people are waiting for it to be finished and i am very slow with updates but i think about this fic every day so eventually, yes, it will be done :') hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	4. how did i manage to lose me?

_ There is nothing in the room apart from the chair he's sitting on, and a huge TV screen in front of him. It is dark, but the TV soon flickers into colour. An English broadcast of the race. Lights out and long gone, the data shows it's lap 35. _

_ He senses something's going to happen, but he just can't put his finger on what. It's like knowing it's someone's birthday or wedding anniversary, you can't remember who, you just know with a sinking feeling that you're missing it. The harder you try to grasp the memory, the further it slips away. _

_ He watches the cars slink through turns and power down straights. The thunder clouds overhead start spitting rain. The car in front keeps going, despite the growing insistence of the wet track. The silver arrow is being chased by the Ferrari, a decent gap, but closing in. Lap 36._

_The other cars have fallen behind; a distracting, intense battle for seventh between cars 55 and 3 going on in the midfield, while Bottas is running third, with Verstappen closing in on him. Lap 37._

_The dread gets worse. He knows now. He knows, but he doesn't want to believe it. Part of him wants to avert his eyes; and the rest is entranced. Smoke clouds rise up from the Mercedes engine; mingling with the unforgiving grey sky. _

_Lewis slows down and pulls off the track onto the tarmac. He's told to get out of the car; it's dangerous, and burning from the inside. Yellow flags._ _ Sainz had defended amazingly against Ricciardo, but Nico wasn't focused on that. He's focused on Vettel closing the gap as he approaches Turn 10, where only a few metres away, Lewis is climbing out of his car._

_The Ferrari's brakes lock up, and the understeer sends him off the track straight for Lewis._

_With some fear, Nico becomes aware that he cannot move. Wanting to look away does nothing; his body won't cooperate, forcing him to _ _suffer through the crash at every angle as the coverage stops and the nightmare plays on loop, on the dream screen, behind his eyelids. He doesn't hear Seb's team radio, only a dead silence accompanying the footage of Lewis being thrown into the air and crumpling into a heap as he hit the barriers._

_The video ends and repeats. Over and over again, until Nico is screaming his voice hoarse for it to stop- he gets it, he tried his best, he did everything he could. But the entity that gave him the dreams doesn't seem to think so, because he must have had to watch it at least thirty times before sleep releases him and he can finally force himself awake._

Nico wakes up with sweat drenching his whole body, his pulse skyrocketing, struggling to breathe, a silent scream. His eyes are open, staring into the dark of his room, but in his mind he can still see the crash, as vivid as though it had taken place right in front of his eyes. 

He can't take this any more. But dimly, with a shudder, he realises that he won't have to. He checks the time- yes, today, 1:30am of course- in a few hours, they'll see if he was right to heed the dreams' warning.

He gets up out of bed, makes himself a hot drink to help him relax. He perches on the coffee table and checks his messages, anxious about the reply he's received to the message he sent before he fell asleep.

_To: Lewis_

_Please think about what I said. woke up from the dream again. it's worse every time_

Lewis replied pretty much straight away, but Nico was exhausted, and he'd already gone to bed. 

_From: Lewis_

_I am thinking about it. The problem is I don't trust you any more_

Nico exhales. It hurts to see the truth he's known for so long written it in black and white. 

_To: Lewis_

_i know. I hate it. X_

He sips at his coffee, knowing he's not going to get back to sleep now. He has work; some emails to write and paperwork to look through, but he can't concentrate properly, too keyed up. He sits there in the dark, pensively drinking the coffee even though it's burning his lips, wondering what will have happened by the time the day is done.

His phone rings, startling him. Vivian. Fear takes over him. Has something happened? Is she all right? Are the girls all right?

"Hey, love," he answers before it can ring for a second time. "Is there something wrong?" He sounds nervous, even to himself.

"No, everything's fine," his wife answers reassuringly. "Naila had a nightmare. She woke me up, and I checked my phone, and saw you were active on Whatsapp. Is everything okay? Why are you awake at this time?"

Nico swallows. He presses his hand to his mouth, suddenly fighting the urge to break down and go home to her. He wishes he'd told her sooner what was going on.

"Not really," he admits quietly.

"What is it?"

It's hard to take the leap, but he's mad at himself for ever doubting that she'd understand. After everything. After everything with his career, with_ Lewis,_ the way they've stuck together as a family- this is just a drop in the ocean of things they've been through, and survived. He starts at the beginning: the first nightmare. He tells her about Jenson, and hears her disapproving noise, because he really told _Jenson Button_ before his _own wife. _

She goes quiet when he explains what happened with Lewis. It's difficult, especially when the emotions come flooding back. The frustration that he wouldn't listen. The proximity made it hard to articulate properly; when all he wanted to do was beg Lewis just to be his_ friend_ again, speaking terms.

He doesn't leave much out. What's the point? She knows almost everything; and most of it she deduced herself- "it's the look you get", is what she always used to say. And late night, always with the help of a little Dutch courage, he'd sometimes tell an anecdote about two boys in love, with driving and each other. 

"I think Lewis and Sebastian are going to end up together," he finishes hesitantly. It seems random; but it's been lingering at the back of his mind for way longer than he's realised. Talking to Seb yesterday made him notice how serious it's become. How important either one is to the other. And he has no idea how to feel about it.

"Oh, sweetheart," Vivian says. It's all there in those two words. Compassion, pity, exasperation, affection. "Our lives are so crazy sometimes."

"I love you," Nico tells her, because he feels the need to say it.

"I know that," she answers, a smile in her voice. Her tone turns sombre. "I'm sorry you didn't think you could trust me."

"No, I-"

"I'll always be here for you. I know things have been hard for you, with Lewis, and being apart from him isn't good forever." 

He shakes his head, even though he knows she can't see him do it. 

"You've done everything you can. You've been given the chance to make up with him, and you did the right thing by warning him about the dream. I can't wait till you come home. Everything will work itself out, baby, okay?"

"Yeah," he answers softly. He wants nothing more than to be home with her right now. To take her in his arms and listen to her whisper reassurance, both to him, and their daughter, who's had a nightmare too.

"You should try and get some sleep before the big day," Vivian says. 

"I know. You're right. Sorry I'm such a mess," he finishes, embarrassed.

"Ah, but you're _my_ mess. Goodnight, Nico. I love you."

"Love you too."

He lets her hang up the call, shaking his head in wonder at how he managed to get so lucky. When things broke down with Lewis, Vivian had been there. If she hadn't, he has no idea how he would have coped. 

Who did Lewis have?

He had his dad, but that wasn't perfect. Anthony had supported Lewis forever, but Nico knew from experience how hard it was when you needed to finally become independent, but your father was hovering over you. And who could blame him? Anthony had always been there, doing everything he could to foster Lewis' success. There was the kind of father Nico wanted to be.

Anthony, and his other son Nicolas, were still friendly with Nico, even though Lewis had fallen out with him. The Brit probably begged his family not to interact with him, but they were too nice for that, too polite, and they likely felt sorry for him. They must see how desperate his attempts are getting to catch Lewis' attention; his family being the next best thing. 

He asks himself if Anthony would approve of Sebastian in the same way he'd hinted to Nico all those years ago.

_"Nico, don't bother. You've never had to put up a tent in your life," Lewis called irritably as Nico fumbled with the tent frame. Cold, soaked through with rain, and tired, Nico let the metal frame clatter to the floor and stormed away._

_He could hear Lewis arguing with Nicolas, and then the lower tones, raised in anger, of Lewis' dad._

_He liked Anthony. Anthony seemed to like him as well, after he'd got past the stage of tiptoeing around "Keke Rosberg's son", trying to impress him._

_Lewis has never done that. That was what started it all off; the way Lewis treated him like any other kid. Not special, nor weird._

_He didn't think Anthony would like him as much when he realised Nico spent a good portion of his time with Lewis' dick in his mouth._

_Then again. He'd thought the same thing about his own father, but he'd only found condoms in his en-suite bathroom conveniently at the time when Lewis was coming to stay with them, which was as close as he was going to get to approval._

_It was Anthony that caught up with him on his morose stroll through the wet woods._

_"Come back now, Nico," Lewis' dad said, clapping him on the shoulder. "We've set the tents up. Lewis was only messing around, you know what he's like."_

_Nico said nothing, but he dutifully followed his friend's father back to the pitch._

_"Listen, I don't really know how to say this," Anthony started. It was so similar to Lewis that Nico quickly had to stop himself from smiling._

_"I'm really happy you've got each other, all right? Lewis would kill me if he heard me right now. I've been thinking. I wasn't going to say anything, just let you get on with it, but then I thought- oh no. You might think I don't approve. And that's absolutely not true. I just want you to know, Nico- it's fine with me," he finished up, looking hopeful that he'd said the right thing._

Did he really just give me his blessing?_ Nico thought. _Am I hearing things?

_They'd been doing everything they could to hide it. He'd never so much as entwined his and Lewis' pinkie fingers in front of anyone who knew them. Were they really that obvious?_

_"What's fine?" Nico asked innocuously, tilting his head. Retrospectively it was pretty cruel of him to put Anthony on the spot like that. He had to be sure, though._

_ Anthony raised his eyebrows, as if to say, _really?_ "Come on. You're not exactly subtle," he joked, then went back to earnest. "It's all right. You're good for each other."_

_"Thank you," Nico eventually managed, sounding more choked up than he'd intended. Anthony grinned- it wasn't often that you could render Nico speechless._

_When they got back, Lewis kept looking suspiciously between them, but they didn't give the game away._

_Late that night after they were curled up tight in the same sleeping bag, careless hickeys littering Nico's neck, he whispered "Your dad said he's fine with us."_

_Lewis' fingers stopped tracing patterns on Nico's stomach and he didn't take a breath for a good few seconds._

_He could feel Lewis' emotions as though they were being transferred through their skin. Shock, relief, joy._

_"I love you," Lewis whispered._

_Nico said it back. He didn't have to hide it here._

First it was his father he pushed away. Then he'd broken up with Nicole- and wasn't that partially Nico's fault too? That you never forget your first love, and you never get over them- the year before, in 2015, and then all he had was Nico. 

Until Nico left him.

One of the most upsetting memories from that year, a few days after _that_ argument, was the way Seb had looked at him when he'd tried to offer a smile. After they tried so hard to get on better terms, Seb just shook his head and looked away.

Nico didn't leave it there, catching up to ask what was wrong, but that was probably worse, because what Seb said to him will probably stay with him forever.

_"You knew his worst fear is being abandoned. So you abandoned him."_

It wasn't like that. He tries to convince himself that it wasn't. When he thinks back now, it just makes him realise that Seb was always there for Lewis, always waiting in the wings to take over (and do a better job) when Nico selfishly and unavoidably fucked up. 

He's aware that Seb and Lewis are genuinely great friends and have been for some time. He's made a few sarcastic comments on the topic, like: so it _is_ possible for Lewis to respect a rival. And although it reassures him to see that Lewis has someone looking out for him, someone he trusts and whose company he enjoys, it's always going to be jarring to see your ex with someone else. 

He knows he has no right to resent what Seb and Lewis have now, and yet it hurts to see Lewis with someone else, especially someone he knows so well. He can't help but imagine what Lewis and Seb are like together. Whether they do the things he and Lewis used to do. If Seb-

_Lewis looked heartbroken. It was only P3, for God's sake. Something in the back of Nico's mind warned him that it wasn't just that, there was something lost and pleading, in Lewis' steady gaze._

_"But what about Nicole," Nico said stupidly. It didn't matter about Vivian. It had never stopped them before. He hated himself for that._

_"Things are _shit_ with Nicole," Lewis snapped. He seemed to catch himself, worried for once about driving Nico away with his casual digs and mockery, but Nico said nothing, wordlessly opening his arms for Lewis to settle into. _

_"You want to talk about it?" Nico asked, turning his face so he mumbled it against Lewis' shoulder, wrapping his arms around his middle. _

_"No," Lewis replied shortly. He tilted his head back so he could look Nico in the eyes, his own half-lidded. "I just want to forget about everything," he said quietly._

_He pulled Nico down for a kiss, to which at this point, he responded on instinct. He told himself it was just that, even though after years of this, his stomach still did somersaults whenever Lewis touched him, and if he hadn't got over a crush after 17 years- _17 fucking years?!-_ he would have to just accept that he never would._

_Lewis pulled away to ask, seriously, "Do you know how many times I fucked you?"_

_Nico let out a startled laugh, surprised rather than embarrassed. He'd done some shameless things; getting fucked by his loving boyfriend he never considered to be one of them. All the memories of countless hotel rooms as karting teammates, Lewis' apartment as Mercedes teammates, Nico's bedroom during the holidays at his family home, that one time in the tent where Lewis' brother almost walked in on them-_

_It made him smile and also, within the span of a few seconds, feel like he was going to die if Lewis didn't fuck him. That was nothing new. It was inconvenient in 2000, trying to muffle his moans into a pillow so Lewis' dad and brother didn't hear them in the next tent over because he just couldn't wait- and it was inconvenient now in 2015, where he was married, happily, with a baby on the way._

_Reminding himself of his responsibilities did nothing to curb his enthusiasm; or at least that of his dick, which he tried to ignore._

_ He acknowledged that Lewis genuinely curious if he knew the exact figure. "No. I lose count. I wasn't keeping score; just hoping there'd be a next time," he finished wryly._

_Lewis smiled faintly before turning thoughtful."I don't know either," he answered. "Not for sure. It was a lot though."_

_Nico grinned. _

_"And you never asked to do it to me," he continued softly. He never looked away, even when Nico blinked in surprise, his lips parting as though to speak, but unsure what to say._

_"I want you to," Lewis said firmly. There wasn't a trace of embarrassment in his quiet tone._ _ "Remember the first time? When I asked you if it was good for you? If you even liked it?" he gave a rueful smile. _

_"Yeah," Nico breathed, because he _did_ remember. "I told you there was nothing better."_

_"You told me it made you feel safe," Lewis agreed. "You said you wanted to stay like that forever, with me inside you. Holding you."_

_Nico licked his lips and nodded, feeling warmth spread through him, his heart, remembering how good it felt._

_"I need that. I need to feel like you still love me," Lewis told him, and only then did he look away into his lap, picking at his fingernails. "Everything is all wrong. We're always fighting. We're always trying to one up each other. I miss being you and me against the world."_

_"I do love you," Nico said fiercely. He tilted Lewis' chin up so he'd look at him. "I do."_

_"So... will you do it, then?" _

_"Of course I will," Nico said in disbelief. Would there ever be a context in which he could say no to that? If Lewis had suggested it at the _dining table_ with his _wife_ sitting there he grimly realises he'd probably still answer affirmatively. _

_Lewis had traditionally been the one to physically dominate Nico unless he'd somehow gained the upper hand in a pillow fight- but there were times, especially in the earliest stages of their relationship where Lewis was shit scared of being gay and completely inexperienced, that Nico had had to take control. _

_That was many years ago. Over time, as they learned each other's bodies, Lewis had become more confident, and Nico was more than happy to let himself be taken care of. Now he had to return the favour. He was nervous, sure- he was essentially taking a kind of Lewis' virginity, and he wanted the memory to be as good as his had been- but he was also confident he'd know what to do, and so full of love that Lewis wanted him, trusted him, like this._

_"Now?" Nico asked gently, already knowing the answer._

_Lewis nodded. "I already... you know," he said in a low voice._

_"Hmm?" he prompted innocently._

_Lewis scowled and Nico left it. This was not the time to wind him up. _

_He was curious as to how long Lewis had been thinking about this. If he'd practiced preparing himself, biting his lip, with two fingers in his ass to get used to the stretch, wishing he could ask Nico to do it for him._

_He was fully hard now. Lewis could probably feel it._

_"Do you have condoms and lube?" Nico asked, more steady than he felt. _

_"In the bedroom, yeah, come on."_

_When they got to the bedroom Lewis took the bottle of lube from the drawer and put it on the bed. Then he stood there awkwardly for a second, clearly wanting to say something. _

_"I got tested," he started. "I'm clean. We don't have to use a condom."_

_If Lewis wanted him to faint, he was going the right way about it. This whole experience was a wet dream; first the win, now this._

_"Why did you get tested?" Nico asked him out of sheer curiosity._

_"So you could fuck me without a condom, obviously," Lewis muttered. _

_More than gratified by that answer, Nico pushed him down onto the bed and helped take his clothes off, as he did the same, occasionally fitting their lips together for a messy, hurried kiss. He ran his hands over Lewis' stomach, over the tattoos whose shapes he'd memorised with time and dedication, imagining what it would feel like to come inside him. He wrapped a hand around Lewis' dick, stroking it at a slow pace, watching precum gather temptingly at the tip._

_"Wanted to help you celebrate," Lewis added, arching his back, more loose-tongued with Nico touching him like this. "I can still taste champagne."_

_Nico's hand travelled boldly further down to the cleft of his ass, checking to see if he really had prepared. When he pressed a finger to Lewis' rim, finding it slick with lube, Lewis went quiet, and his breathing shallow. _

_"Ready?" Nico queried, his voice dropping an octave in desire. _

_"Ready," Lewis assured him, determination shining in his eyes._

_Nico pushed a finger inside, slowly and carefully, watching Lewis' face to gauge if he was hurting him. He had to be cautious; it was his first time, and he knew how much it could hurt if he was too rough. The slide was easy and Lewis relaxed for him without even being prompted._

_"Come on, man," Lewis said hoarsely. "I don't want to wait any more."_

_Nico obliged. With two fingers, Lewis' hands were fisted tightly in the bedsheets, moving his hips involuntarily to try and get more stimulation. He had been fucking himself with three fingers before Nico got there, and now he impatiently urged him on._

_With the addition of a third, Lewis was fucking himself back onto Nico's fingers now, not caring how desperate it looked. Things had been getting him down, he was becoming overly-emotional and unhappy, and all he'd been thinking about was how things used to be. That at one point, their hearts only had room for each other._

_He needed this. Nico could feel it, and that's why he didn't drag it out to tease. He withdrew his fingers, wiping them on his thigh, and leant over Lewis, bracing his arms either side of him, guiding his cock to press against his entrance. _

_He thought about the extensive list of places and positions they'd fucked in. On the floor, against the wall, almost in public, in private, from behind, over the kitchen counter to name a few- but nothing could really match the intimacy of being face-to-face, skin-to-skin like this. _

_He bent down to brush his lips against Lewis', before he took his cock by the base and incrementally pushed forward into the heat of Lewis' ass. _

_He was lying almost his whole weight on top of him, squeezing his eyes shut in concentration to avoid coming. For the first few moments it was too overwhelming and he wasn't sure if he'd last. He grazed his teeth lightly against Lewis' neck and mumbled incoherent and fervent praise. _

_Lewis circled his arms around Nico's waist, silently urging him to move. He was past articulating what he wanted; already lost in the sensation he'd wanted to experience since Nico first described it; feeling safe, loved, full, wanted, whole. _

_Nico moved slowly for Lewis' sake but also because he was going to come so fast, so ridiculously early, if he moved at any greater speed. They were pressed so close together that Nico could actually feel Lewis' heartbeat against his. He cupped Lewis' face in his hands and kissed him, heated and leisurely, just to show that this was how it was going to be. Slow, intimate, personal. When he rolled his hips, Lewis' breath caught, and he dug his fingers into Nico's sides. _

_"I'll never do this with anyone else," he whispered, with such conviction that Nico believed it. _

He wonders if Lewis will keep that promise.

It's unfathomably selfish, but Nico desperately hopes that he will. He doesn't want anyone else to get to see Lewis like that. 

_But if they do, it's your fault,_ his mind supplies. 

It makes him sick to the stomach with jealousy and possessiveness, thinking of what Seb might be doing with Lewis, things Nico should be doing, things he'd already done. 

This kind of unsettling envy is probably what Lewis must have felt when he'd introduced his 'girlfriend', a few months after they agreed they should probably break it off; their relationship was getting too intense, they were too dependent on each other. And as their names became increasingly recognisable; they decided that risking their careers for their relationship was too risky. 

He never shook off the feeling that he made the wrong decision. Their friendship endured, but he wasn't prepared for the scale of the yearning he'd feel whenever he realised he couldn't just lean in for a kiss any more, he couldn't fall asleep in Lewis' arms, he couldn't call him every pet name in every language that he knew.

He can't begrudge Lewis this, when he'd put him through the same thing. He brazenly introduced a total stranger, a girl, to his ex-lover, who was still just as helplessly in love as Nico was. Instead of weaning themselves off each other, Nico went and found someone else to fill the void, and what's worse, he tried to force Lewis into accepting it too.

Nico remembers the look on Lewis' face as he looked dully between them: his best friend and his new girlfriend. He didn't even acknowledge Vivian, just went very quiet. Neither he nor Nico tried to make an excuse for his reaction. Maybe she'd always known, right from that first painfully awkward meeting. 

They went out and Lewis had been determined to hate her. Nico regretted bring her along. What the hell had he been thinking? If he was honest, it wasn't Lewis that had pushed for them to end it. He'd wanted to try and keep it private, away from the public, but Nico couldn't face having to hide in shame like that.

Lewis' resentment simmered almost visibly beneath his skin. Vivian took it in her stride and Nico had fell for her then. After an hour or so, eating ice cream on a Monégasque pier, she broke Lewis down and he started to smile. 

That's always been Vivian's gift; the very definition of the phrase 'people person'. She can strike up a conversation with anyone. She gets life stories from strangers on trains, she befriends her boyfriend's jilted ex-lover without breaking a sweat. 

Watching them together over the years made Nico imagine a perfect world where he could have both of them. In his desperation to win a championship, he'd come close to _losing_ them. They were extremely different; and yet they orbited him with equal importance. 

The room had seemed to warm up with the sound of Vivian's voice filtering into it, and he'd slowly begun to relax. Now it seems colder again. He just wants this hell to be over. He wants things to go back to normal, but then... what is normal? He doesn't want to go back to the reign of silence between him and Lewis. And yet they can never go back to what they were before Formula 1. So what does he really want? 

His family. And his best friend back.

Putting it like that makes it seem less of a monumental ask. For a moment, he lets himself dream about the conspicuously empty apartment below only being empty because Lewis is eating dinner upstairs with Nico. He dreams about karting and football and videogames and movie marathons with popcorn. He dreams about Lewis until he's falling asleep again, with fond memories and innocent hopes warming his heart.

When he wakes up, it's 8am.

_Shit. _He's going to be late. 

*

By the time he gets to the track, the bright early morning sun has disappeared behind heavy clouds. He's supposed to be with Sky already and he can feel the embarrassment burning him up as he quickly makes his way to where they're just starting without him.

He's never late. Luckily, they just quickly mic him up and no one's too harsh about his out-of-character tardiness. It might be the dark circles under his eyes that puts them off.

It's mercifully easy to drop into the commentating mindset as they discuss power unit penalties and Ferrari's surprising race pace comeback. For a blissful hour, Nico's focused only on relaying predictions and statistics. When the mics come off, he's almost disorientated, surrounded by thousands of strangers. 

When he takes his phone out of his pocket just for something to do with his nervous hands, he's irritated to see that it's only 10. He has to kill _four hours_ in this state of heightened anxiety. He calls Jenson; hoping he's settled at home for a relaxing Sunday. 

"Hey mate. I was just about to text you, actually."

"Wow," Nico raises his eyebrows. "Don't tell me you're becoming psychic too."

Jenson laughs.

"How are you doing?" he asks softly.

"Not so good," Nico sighs. He looks around, feeling lost and alone in the sea of fans, media, and staff. "I don't know. I'm just really tense."

"I bet."

"I spoke to Lewis," Nico adds quietly. He isn't sure why he's lowering his voice when no one seems to be paying him any attention.

"What happened?"

"Nothing, really. I can't tell if he believed me or not. I don't know if he'll do what I said."

"It doesn't matter, Nico!" Jenson says exasperatedly. "You went out of your way to warn him. It's out of your hands now. Just try and relax."

Nico scoffs.

"What else can you do?" Jenson points out. He lowers his voice. "I think he will listen, though." 

"Really?"

"Well, you know Lewis better than I do, but I don't think he'd try and tempt fate."

"It's because it's me, though. If it was anyone else, he'd listen." A thought suddenly dawns on him and he groans, covering his eyes with the hand that isn't holding his phone. He is so stupid. Someone needs to change his Wikipedia page to 'German-Finnish former racing driver and verdammter Idiot'. "Oh, God. We are so stupid."

"What?"

"Why didn't I just get _you _to call Lewis and pretend _you_ had the premonitions? He'd have listened to you!"

"Oh," Jenson says articulately. "Right." He pauses. "Yeah, I didn't think of that."

"Clearly not!"

"Maybe because it wouldn't be plausible coming from me. It'd be much easier to believe that _you'd _be having intense dreams about him." There's a hint of amusement colouring his tone.

"It's not funny."

"It is the tiniest bit funny. I'm sorry. Look, just put it out of your mind for a few hours, yeah? Go and get a drink or something. It will all be over before you know it, nothing to worry about, then you can jump into Lewis' arms and ride off into the sunset." He pauses to listen to Nico's indignant spluttering before he sagely interrupts, "I'll call you later, all right?"

"Right," Nico says sullenly. 

"Good luck. I'll be watching the race."

"Bye, Jenson."

He wanders aimlessly for a while, watching the clouds get darker and darker overhead. Rain is expected, eagerly awaited because a wet race is more 'exciting', but 'exciting' is making Nico's stomach churn in fear for Lewis' safety.

Some people stop him for autographs and pictures. He's too wired to smile properly, too anxious to eat. It's equal parts shameful and surprising that he's more tense now than he was awaiting the birth of either of his children. 

Toto invited him to watch from the garage after Lewis leaves it. He's still accustomed to keeping Lewis and Nico as far apart as possible and Nico feels a twinge of recurrent sympathy for his old team boss after all the shit he'd put up with.

He could do with Toto's reassuring presence taking his mind off all the drama for a while.

It took effort not to warn the Mercedes mechanics about the state of the engine, wanting his team to be successful. He has to be careful. There's no logical explanation for him having so much inside information about it. Pit stop strategy is today's focus. With the chance of heavy rain almost certain, the wet tyres are bound to make an appearance.

After an aeon masquerading itself as a few hours, the cars finish their formation lap and line up on the grid. He thinks he might be more nervous now than he was ever sitting in the car himself. In 38 laps of the track, it will all be over. Part of him needs the nightmares to come true just for the sake of his dignity, part of him just wants Lewis to be safe. 

Lewis gets away well, but the same can't be said for Seb in P2, who gets passed by Bottas _and_ Leclerc. He watches until the otherwise uneventful first lap is done. then makes his way to the Mercedes garage. Toto manages a smile and a wave, but he's concentrating hard on the race and telemetry, and that suits Nico just fine, because he'll be doing the same. 

It's a shame, really, because if he's supposed to be making a post-Belgian GP analysis video he's going to struggle, bearing in mind he's barely paying attention to anyone other than Lewis. He doesn't even react to Leclerc's shock retirement from the race on Lap 15 as the car spins out of control, leaving Seb free to push to attack Valtteri. 

His eyes are fixed on Lewis' car. Whenever the main coverage cuts away from the race leader, Nico switches to watching the other cameras to make sure he keeps track of Lewis, to the extent that he has no idea what's going on in the midfield. 

The near-defeaning noise of the fans reacting to Seb's overtake on Bottas eclipses the disappointed groans of the Mercedes crew, who along with every other team, have been poised the whole time to bring out the wet tires, even though there's been no rain so far.

Team radio tells them that Lewis wants to pit for mediums. The pit stop is quick and efficient, which is more than can be said for the likes of both Haas cars, whose stops take around 6 seconds for an unaccountable reason.

At one point the cameras actually pan to Nico, rare that he's in the Mercedes garage, or more appropriately the lion's den. He ignores them, keeping focused on Lewis' onboard. 

Lap 38 is fast approaching. He leans forward, resting his chin on his hand, watching even more intently for any signs of the dream coming true, tiny details to encourage him, like the battle between Sainz and Ricciardo that he noticed last night.

The first into Lap 38, Lewis goes down the straight up into Raidillon, leading Sebastian by 20 seconds, and Nico's heart feels like it's going to leap out of his chest with how fast it's beating. 

But there's no smoke coming from the engine. No 'stop the car, stop the car' over team radio, so of course, no pulling over at Bruxelles, no yellow flag, no-

_That's it, then. _Nico thinks, his devastated reaction muted by shock. _It hasn't happened. _

The emotion hasn't registered yet, but he can feel himself on the verge of a breakdown. This isn't right. He can't comprehend it. Sleepless nights, waking up in cold sweat fearing for his once-best-friend's life, questioning his sanity, leading up to one specific moment... that never happens.

If Seb locks up now, it will all be over. The crash won't have happened. A haze of confusion and hurt steals over him. Perhaps this really was all just a cruel joke played by an unforgiving universe. Make Nico think he's crazy, that will be amusing.

Except Seb's brakes don't lock up. He doesn't make the mistake characteristic of the premonitions, the mistake that causes the crash.

So where does that leave them? Is it still yet to happen? But _how?_ It's Lap 38, and both the Ferrari and the Mercedes have long since passed the turn where it's all meant to go down. His heart sinks.

Nico puts his head in his hands in distress, but watches through his fingers, still sure, still convinced, that something is going to happen. If it doesn't, he won't be able to say he's saved Lewis' life. He'll miss his only chance to make things right between them. 

It has to, surely. It _has_ to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is !! expect this kind of wait for more updates. really sorry, but i have a terrible attention span. writing long fic is so new to me. im trying my best though and im so proud of this fic so far. all of your comments have meant the world to me. 
> 
> the plan for this fic is 7 chapters, with an 8th as the epilogue. i'll probably be asking what readers would like to see in the epilogue, so stay tuned! <3


	5. all that shame and all that danger

Lewis just wants this day to be over with.

It's strange, because he doesn't feel scared. He just can't relax, knowing that the universe chose this day for him to die, and there's some higher power that didn't like it, working with his ex-lover to save him. Several times he has to school his features into indifference, instead of this stupid, incredulous smile over the fact that any of this is happening.

He's tense as all hell and everyone can see it- Valtteri steers clear, even Toto is treating him with caution. 

He can see his team principal is dying to ask what he spoke about with Nico, but he's holding back because that must be what put Lewis in this uncooperative mood. In truth, he's deep in concentration. Trying to figure out the deeper meanings behind Nico's dreams, and how best to heed their warning. 

Thankfully the days when the mere mention of Nico was enough to send him into a spiraling rage are over; replaced by a vague sense of wistfulness and hurt.

Lewis gets his head down, keen to talk strategy. He's always been an optimist, glass half full. No one is enthusiastic about his idea, but they'll come around. Five world championships holds_ some_ sway.

"What makes you suggest that, Lewis?" Toto asks, folding his arms and studying him curiously. 

"I'll tell you when it's over," Lewis answers. At Toto's raised eyebrow, he insists, "Just trust me, yeah?"

Toto doesn't object. There is a slight tension between them in these moments. Not enough to affect professionalism, just a faint sense of resentment on Toto's end. He never truly forgave Lewis for what he did to Nico and the fact that he continues to do it- to ignore him, to deprive him of the attention he craves more than anything- does nothing to help the situation. 

Toto says nothing, because he knows that no matter how cruelly and intentionally Lewis hurt Nico, it was only so he would feel half the pain he'd inflicted on Lewis by betraying him and abandoning him.

Nico respectfully keeps out of Lewis' way, which he appreciates, because he needs to focus. And if there's anything that's guaranteed to throw him off, it's an encounter with the man he once considered his soulmate.

So far he's leading Valtteri by 62 points. Getting pole was good, but the Ferrari straight line speed means he needs to make the most of it. The day doesn't drag on, as it never does before a race, and he's thankful. He wants to throw himself into it, because the sooner he gets into the car, the sooner this will be over. 

When Lewis glances over during the Belgian national anthem, Seb looks pale. Lewis feels the urge to go to him, to take his hand and tell him not to worry, everything will be fine. 

Imagining the kind of reaction that that would elicit scares him just as much now as it always has. 

As a teenager, he was always wondering about when he'd have to come out as the first openly gay Formula 1 driver. How he and Nico were going to break it to the press and fans that they had been fucking each other since they were 15.

He thought about where and when he was going to propose; maybe he would take Nico back to Crete, or to Venice like their first proper date.

_Nico was regaling a group of drunk, loud foreign people with some presumably over-exaggerated stories, going by the volume of their laughter. He exaggerated gestures with his hands which gave nothing away of the conversation topic. Lewis sulkily sipped at his expensive wine. He had no idea what was so funny. The fact that Nico spoke five different languages might be hot as fuck, but it often made Lewis feel excluded and uncultured._

_It was difficult to remain in a bad mood the longer he watched, though. Nico's looks would catch anyone's eye, but he was also a character. He drew people to him like moths to a flame, and Lewis felt a possessive surge of pride knowing that Nico was _his.

_The thought formed naturally in his mind, stealing up on him without him even noticing. _

I want to marry him.

_His mood swung like a pendulum back to childish excitement. The water of the Grand Canal shimmered with possibilities. In his reflection, he saw his own visceral joy, because everything went from mundane to magical just with the fickle shift of his mood. _

_Lewis came and sat back at the table, moving his chair closer to Nico, who glanced at him mid-story to silently ask if he was all right. _

_Under the night sky, Lewis kissed him. The Italians went silent for a good few seconds, then erupted into wolf whistles and whoops. Nico pulled away, breathless and red-faced, but visibly pleased. He seemed to forget he'd been halfway through another melodramatic retelling. _

_They took a walk through the streets hand-in-hand for the first time that night. It was both thrilling and terrifying, and their grip on each other was bone-crushing, revealing their nerves over being openly involved in public._

_It was the best night of Lewis' life. The fear of being caught out was nothing compared to the unfiltered happiness he felt. Strolling boldly through backstreets of a country where no one knew their names or faces, they could show they were together. And for the first time, it seemed possible that one day, it wouldn't be such a big deal. _

He'd had more than a taste of what fans, staff, and even fellow drivers could be like when you were different. Nico tried his best to be supportive but he'd never know what it was like to walk into a paddock and be the only black kid there, with nothing to his name no less.

Realising the hatred he'd get for coming out- on top of all the racism insidious to the sport- made a bolt of cold dread shoot through his spine, but he steeled himself against the fear, because there was no universe in which he was ashamed to be in love with Nico.   
  
Then his whole world came crashing down. Nico introduced him to Vivian. Lewis' heart broken cleanly in two and he was glad he never had to risk it. 

Yet here he is again in the same position, asking himself if it would ever work out. Could he and Sebastian be open about their relationship? Could they ever be open about it, even after they'd left Formula 1? That's assuming this is all as serious for Seb as it is for Lewis- Seb might not want to risk his reputation, especially if this is a casual thing to him. If he doesn't, Lewis will have to live with that. 

Seated in the car, he takes a deep breath and tries to relax himself. Bizarrely enough, he isn't scared even now. He's confident he won't die today. He imagines Nico watching the race, rigid with tension. If Nico had never said anything...

He shakes himself out of that depressing line of thought. Time to focus; carry out the plan he's had forming in his mind since Nico explained the dream. 

They finish the formation lap, warming their tires, himself at the front of the grid. The first red light... the second, third, fourth and fifth- lights out takes forever, his whole body tensing up until he's ready to put his foot to the floor. He gets a decent start, pulling ahead of Seb who had no such luck. Lewis is being chased by Charles and Valtteri. He focuses on keeping them behind. 

The laps go by and he gets into the rhythm of it. There's something far more peaceful about being p1 than spending stressful time in pursuit of other cars. He can take it at his own pace, lead as he does best. Bono feeds him advice and information, particularly regarding the chance of rain. Mostly it's just himself and the car, finding a pace that works. He sets a few fastest laps until Charles beats him to it on Lap 14.

Sensationally, Charles spins out at Blanchimont on Lap 15 and the crowd roars; some in indignation, others in glee. Lewis has only truly wished DNFs on a couple of drivers and Charles definitely isn't one of them, but it does take some of the pressure off him, with Valtteri now running p2. Bono tells him Seb is catching up. He forces himself to relax, noting that he's leading his teammate by 10 seconds.

Still no rain as predicted. The sky is a thunderous grey, no sunlight getting through. 

"Last chance to go back to our original strategy, Lewis," Bono remarks, laps later. "Chance of rain is almost 90%."

"No," Lewis says decisively. "Let's stick to what we talked about."

Valtteri pits for medium tyres, bringing him a lot closer to Seb, who pitted 5 laps earlier. Lewis stays out. The soft tyres are falling off but he'll go as far as he can, not pushing as hard as the team advised he should 'before the rain started'. 

When he pits, it's a short stop, but it puts him just behind Valtteri. Seb is on his tail. He puts everything he has into getting that p1, and 8 laps later, he makes his DRS assisted move on the Kemmel Straight. For the rest of the race, Valtteri loses time trying to fend off Vettel, and it allows Lewis to get decently ahead of them both. It's the three of them out in front with the rest of the pack lagging behind, but Verstappen has broken away and is closing the gap between Bottas and himself. 

Lewis hears the fans go crazy before he catches sight of Seb in his mirrors. He finally managed to overtake Valtteri on Lap 30. Lewis does well in maintaining this pace, keeping a distance from the Ferrari. 

He feels a slight pang of guilt thinking about how Nico will react to Lap 38 passing without incident, but he hopes it's nothing drastic, because Bono is already warning him about the engine temperature, and Lewis' strategy will only have saved him a couple of laps. 

As predicted, only two laps later, the power unit fucks up. He feels it in the car's lack of responsiveness before they see it in the form of smoke. They need to sort out whatever's wrong with it; especially seeing as the same thing happened to Kubica in Q1 yesterday.

He's losing pace rapidly and Seb is closing in. He passes Les Combes and goes on to stop at the tarmac at Turn 10.

There's a note of tension to Bono's voice when he tells Lewis to get out of the car, which makes him realise the problem might be more serious than he'd first thought. 

"Get out of the car," Bono repeats with urgency. 

It dawns on Lewis that it won't be as easy as just sitting in the car and waiting for Seb to crash, then hopping out. It's dangerous to stay here. The engine is on fire and the marshals haven't arrived yet, not a yellow flag in sight, although the LED lights on his steering wheel let him know they are under the yellow flag.

"Lewis, what are you doing? Can you hear me?" Bono sounds panicked now. 

"Yeah, I can hear you. I'm sorry, man, just give me a few more seconds." 

"What do you mean? What's going on? You know the car's on fire, mate, you need to get out-"

Lewis knows their exchanges are being broadcast and he isn't looking forward to explaining his seemingly random disobedience. Maybe the press will think he _wanted_ his car to explode or engulf him in flames. 

He can already see the headlines of the Sun;  
_Is Lewis Hamilton suicidal? _

Bono is still freaking out; he's been advised to just relay instructions without questioning Lewis' mental state so much, but Lewis is attuned to the nuances of his voice, and every, _get out of the car,_ sounds more and more fraught.

Lewis throws his steering wheel out. He takes deep, slow breaths to pass the agonisingly long seconds before Seb DNFs, or alternatively, staying in the car too long kills him. 

It's an age before he catches sight of Seb turning the corner in his mirrors. The Ferrari locks up, and the understeer drags the car all the way across the tarmac where Lewis would have been walking. 

Even at the slower speed Seb was going under the yellow flag, it was fast enough to do extreme damage to an unprotected person.

Not wanting to risk any more time in the ticking time bomb of his car, despite his desire to gather himself before he faces the cameras, Lewis climbs out. He's relieved to see the marshals have reached him, fire extinguishers at the ready. 

He jogs over to Seb who hasn't got out of his car yet, but quickly jumps out when he sees Lewis, pushing up the visor of his helmet. 

"Was that it?" Seb asks, breathing hard. 

Lewis nods minutely. 

"What happened? Were we going to crash, or-?" Seb sounds confused. He can't work out what was supposed to go wrong or rather, what they avoided.

"I was gonna get out of the car, and you were gonna hit me when you came off the track," Lewis tells him quietly.

Seb's gaze snaps up to his, horrified. He studies Lewis' face as though he is reassuring himself he's still here. His eyes are wide, and when he speaks, horror is audible in his voice. "My God. I would have_ killed_ you." 

Lewis sighs. "No. No, Seb, it was an accident. It doesn't matter now, yeah? It's over." Giddy relief floods him. He _escaped_ _death-_ it's fucking crazy that this turned out to be real, and they managed to avoid it.

Seb shakes his head. He takes off his helmet and balaclava, running a hand through his hair, frantic and distressed.

"Nico saved your life," Seb breathes in wonder. He looks at Lewis, disbelief written over his features. "He really saved your life."

The adrenaline from the race, and the tension of forcing himself to stay in the car, is still coursing through him. The reminder that Nico had risked Lewis' fury, Lewis' rejection, just on the off chance it would save him, makes his breath catch on rising gratitude that threatens to choke him.

Everything is over so quickly. The sense of danger that had been following him since Nico told him about the dream fades away, until it almost seems like they needn't have been worried about it in the first place. Of course, that's not true. He'll never forget how close he came to dying, and who's responsible for stopping it. 

They walk back in silence together, each lost in thought. Lost in what-ifs, in alternate realities where Lewis is dead, and Seb killed him. The last thing on Seb's mind right now is the reaction of the team to his unfortunate, stupid DNF; it's how to thank Nico.

Lewis is thinking about life and how lucky he is to have it. 

His mind wanders to think about his parents, his brother. He thinks about his dogs and his friends, colleagues, family. All these people who woke up this morning with no idea that it could have ended in tragedy. It's true that a brush with death will change your perspective on life. He feels like he's been given a chance to re-evaluate and approach his life in a changed way. And the universe wants it to start with Nico. He isn't quite sure how to feel about that, apart from deep surprise and awe that their relationship has this kind of significance in the world's workings.

Neither of them speak as they separate to go to their respective garages, on the understanding that they'll see each other later. He feels a pang of sympathy when he imagines the shitstorm Seb is about to walk into.

The atmosphere at Mercedes is tense. 

Bono spots him and makes his way over. "Why didn't you get out of the car, Lewis?" he asks, accusatory. Confusion clouds his face. It must have been awful, watching Lewis insist on staying in the car for no apparent reason, while being acutely aware of the danger he was in, but powerless to do anything about it. 

Lewis hesitates. He glances at Toto, who seems like he's putting two and two together, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I'm sorry, guys," he says. "I promise I had a reason to do it, but I can't really explain. I'm sorry for worrying you all."

"You're lucky something serious didn't happen," his race engineer adds. "We need to be able to trust you."

"I know." Lewis feels guilty for not explaining himself, but they'd never believe him anyway. Some stray mechanic would be bound to relay what happened to the press, and that was a can of worms he didn't want to open. "It won't happen again," he says firmly. He has a gut feeling that this is the end, that there won't be any more death premonitions, at least not for he and Nico.

Bono seems reluctantly to accept that answer. Lewis tries to inconspicuously get out of there, so he can have a shower and change his clothes, but Toto won't let him off so easily. He drags Lewis off to a corner of the garage where no one can overhear them, and in a tone brooking no argument, he says, "Tell me what really happened."

Lewis knows he can trust Toto. 

"Nico was having dreams about me dying," he begins, hesitant. "Realistic dreams. He could tell me where, when and how it was going to happen. That's why he was here yesterday. He was warning me to be careful. I couldn't get out of the car, because in his dream, I get out, and Seb crashes into me."

Toto's expression doesn't give much away as he ponders it. It's a lot to take in, and Lewis isn't sure how much of a superstitious person Toto is- whether or not he'd believe in this kind of shit. But he supposes it doesn't really matter, because seeing is believing, and all this happened for the world to see.

"So he saved your life?" Toto prompts. "You believe he did?"

"I'm pretty sure, yeah. I mean, there's no way to tell if the dream would have come true..." 

"But he risked it anyway," he points out.

Lewis closes his mouth, feeling sheepish.

"Then we should be very grateful to him," his team principal muses. "Losing you would break more than one heart." He sounds deeply earnest, and Lewis feels touched. "The least you can do is talk to him, Lewis. I don't have to tell you how much Nico misses you. And yes," he adds, exasperated, when he sees Lewis about to retaliate. "I know you weren't the only one to blame. Actually, I know more than you think."

Lewis flushes. The end of season party in 2015 comes to mind.

_He wasn't too much into alcohol these days, so he had to take full responsibility for his current train of thought. There was no better feeling than winning, and winning as a team was a feeling he wanted to live in. Faces that were once tired and drawn in concentration to get the job done were smiling, relaxed and delighted. People were hugging each other. Singing and dancing because their hard work was paying off. Last year could have been labelled a fluke, but now, it was twice in a row. _

_Toto made a speech and everyone hung on to his every word. Lewis couldn't stop thanking people, an immense gratitude that needed to be expressed, for every single member of this team. And that included Nico. Sharing all this with his best friend had been difficult at times, but it was also the icing on the cake, the thing that made it all the more worthwhile. No one understood in the way Nico did. There was no one he wanted to celebrate with more, and as he threw and arm around Nico's neck, all the tension between them melted away. _

_"We did it," Lewis whispered. "Again."_

_Nico turned to face him and Lewis' hands fell to rest on his waist. It was kind of inappropriate, but that barely even registered through the victory-high, let alone concern him. Let them look. Everyone knew they were fucking anyway, it made him feel dizzy with power to show it._

_"And we're gonna keep doing it, Lewis, you and me," Nico said. He'd had a lot to drink, but his voice was steady, despite his subtle swaying in Lewis' arms. "I know things get intense, but we have to fight it. We're meant to be together. We're meant to win together."_

_"Yeah," Lewis breathed in agreement. He pulled Nico closer to him, who wrapped his arms around Lewis' neck. No one was looking at them per se, but everyone was aware of what was going on. There was a culture within this team specifically which promoted trust over anything. They weren't stupid enough to say "what goes on at Mercedes, stays at Mercedes", but rather, if and when things did get out, the person responsible would be found and punished. _

_At least, that was what was running vaguely through Lewis' mind as he closed his eyes and kissed Nico. There weren't any scandalised gasps or camera flashes, and the music kept blasting through the speakers. Lewis deepened the kiss in response to Nico's enthusiasm, tightening his grip possessively on Nico's waist, as if he could communicate messages of love, forgiveness, and loyalty, through the touch._

_They were firmly pulled apart. Lewis saw red for a moment, ready to turn on the interfering bastard that dared disapprove. As soon as he saw who it was, his anger drained away._

_"So keen to change tomorrow's headlines?" Toto asked innocently, looking between them. _

_Lewis folded his arms, embarrassment curling uncomfortably in his stomach. _

_Nico let out a huff of laughter, still leaning into Lewis and shamelessly unfazed. "Please, Toto, can't we have this?"_

_"No," Toto answered pleasantly. "But you can have a hotel room."_

_Grudgingly, they put a little distance between them, looking around to see if they were being stared at. It was as though their colleagues had been briefed not to look, but their careful avoidance spoke volumes. Lewis couldn't bring himself to put a downer on his day, even though it fucking sucked that if Nico was his wife or girlfriend, no one would have batted an eyelid._

_"Okay," he shrugged. "Come on, Nico."_

_Toto smiled approvingly._

Lewis can tell by the faint amusement on Toto's face that he was thinking about the exact same thing.

"Um, yeah. Fine. I'll talk to him," he acquiesces.

Toto pats him on his shoulder. As he walks away, Lewis feels a surge of affection for his team boss, who's watched him change and supported him through the whole of it. Toto never puts up with his shit, but he's always fought to defend Lewis and see his talent recognised. In a world of backstabbing, greedy liars who pose as friends, it's nice having someone he knows he can rely on.

He waits for Seb to be released from Mattia's clutches, trying not to laugh at Seb's pale face. It is partly funny, but he'd hate to be in Seb's position. The German driver notoriously breaks under pressure, and right now, he's under more pressure than ever to prove he deserves the drive. Lewis genuinely feels for him, rivalry be damned. His feelings for Seb go way deeper than that.

"You okay?" he asks carefully.

"Yeah, I'd rather not keep thinking about it," Seb mutters, affecting a haunted tone, and Lewis can't help but snort.

"I have to go see Nico," Lewis tells him. 

"Don't sound too put out about it," Seb answers reprovingly. "He saved your life."

"I know that," Lewis huffs. "I _know._ I just wish people would stop saying it, like it erases everything he's ever done to me or something."

Seb shrugs, not wanting to push it. 

They find Nico finishing up with his press duties for the day. When he spots Lewis, he looks relieved, but only for a second. His posture is rigid with tension as they find somewhere more private to talk. 

"Why didn't it happen on Lap 38?" he asks frantically, as soon as they pause. "What did you do?" 

Lewis can see it's important to him to know why everything didn't go as expected. It'll fuck with his mind for the rest of his life if there was one tiny detail the dream got wrong, and he'll never know why.

"What did he _do?"_ Seb hisses incredulously, jumping in to defend Lewis. "He listened to your warning! Maybe the dream didn't get every detail perfectly right, calm down!"

"I_ am_ calm," Nico replies tersely, narrowing his eyes at Seb, before he returns to steadily regarding Lewis, expecting an answer.

Lewis clears his throat. Seb turns to look at him, curious now, that Lewis _does_ know something about why the dream didn't play out as they'd thought. 

"You told me my engine was going to overheat. Every team's strategy this weekend was banking on rain. But I knew that if it was going to rain, my engine wouldn't overheat."

Nico stares at him, closing his mouth in surprise. 

"Our strat was to push extra hard before it started raining and we couldn't make up the time on the inters," Lewis explains. "I went against that. I tried to nurse my tyres to last longer, and it paid off for a couple of laps, until my engine failed anyway, like you said it would." 

Nico doesn't say anything, expression filled with disbelief. Lewis can feel Seb's gaze burning a hole into the side of his face, too, both of them accusing. 

Lewis shrugs. "I appreciate the warning, but I'm a driver first and foremost. Winning is the most important thing. You know that just as well as I do." 

He didn't mean to sound so pointed, but often around Nico his words turn sour and cruel, weighted down by bitterness. 

"What does it matter? You did save my life," Lewis points out, before he solemnly adds, "Thank you, Nico. I really appreciate it." 

Lewis offers his hand and pretends he can't feel the tremor in Nico's, as they shake on it. It's a scene with a story, that any photographer would kill to capture. Lewis isn't keen on prolonging it, because the further they are apart, the better he functions. 

Nico doesn't look at him. It's as though he can't stand the thought of this being the end. Lewis can sense his disappointment that things haven't really changed between them, but he of all people should realise that this isn't as simple as 'sorry'. 

"I'm gonna... go now," Lewis tells him, feeling awkward. Seb nods in agreement. "I'll leave you to it."

"Come and see us some time," Nico manages. It's quiet and sad. Outside of this sheltered area, the heavens open, and the rain comes down in sheets as predicted. It's loud, and it drowns out the choking silence between them. 

Lewis swallows. All of a sudden, he can't even bear _looking_ at Nico. It hurts too much and he can feel himself poised to do something really stupid. No touching. That handshake nearly killed him. Anything else and he won't be able to tear himself away.

"Of course," Seb answers, even though it wasn't really directed at him. "Thank you, Nico. Thank you for doing this," he says, grasping Nico's hand. The look they share tells Lewis this won't be the last they speak of it.

He himself nods quickly, and leaves with Seb, unable to stand the growing tension any longer.

He already knows he won't go and see Nico. That apartment is full of echoes of their life together. He can only put himself through so much nostalgia, so much yearning for the past. And Nico's wife, his children, as lovely as they are, are just reminders of what he was never able to give. He does feel like a prick for being so cold. It's tempting to take Nico in his arms and never let him go. Except that's not possible. If he ever wants to be on friendly terms with Nico again, they have to talk things through. Right now, Lewis feels nauseous just thinking about it.

Seb is silent beside him for a change as they walk together through the paddock. Most teams are still in their garages with the race only just finished. Valtteri won, which Lewis is pleased about: a win for the team takes the pressure off him. The same can't be said for Seb; with Ferrari suffering a double DNF. 

"You're quiet," Lewis teases. 

Seb gives him a thin smile, which disappears in an instant. It makes Lewis' stomach drop in an unpleasant way. He can't bear to see Seb angry or upset with him.

Lewis grabs him to stop him in his tracks, pulling him out of earshot of any staff, and the view of fans. "What did I do?"

"Nothing," Seb answers immediately. But Lewis hears it, clear as day behind the word, that "nothing" is _something._ Seb doesn't approve of something he said or did and Lewis is attuned to it, picking up on the change in tone in an instant.

"Clearly you're pissed at me," Lewis says, getting frustrated now. He can't do right by anyone. Does Seb have any idea how hard it was to stand in front of Nico, look him in the eye, thank him, and shake his hand? It's one of the most painful things he's ever had to do, and there have been many. It's like there's no way to get away from him. No matter what Lewis does, someone is going to end up unhappy about it.

"I'm not pissed at you," Seb says tiredly. "I just think you can be selfish sometimes." 

_"Selfish?"_

"First you use Nico's warning as a way to give yourself an advantage over the rest of us. Then, you don't even thank him properly. Don't pretend you can't see how heartbroken he is."

Of course Lewis is grateful that Nico saved him. But that doesn't cancel out years of feuding, saturated with envy and twisted love. 

His words come out in a rush of hurt and anger. "You have no fucking idea what happened between us. You don't realise how hard it is even knowing he's in the same country as me," he spits. "He broke _my_ heart, Seb, not the other way around. I don't know what he wants from me. I don't know what you want from me."

"Just give him a chance!" Seb exclaims frustratedly.

_"Why?!"_ Lewis shouts. "I thought you wanted to be with me. Why do you want me to make up with Nico? Don't you want...?"

He starts to panic. Why does everything have to be so complicated? 

Seb's face falls. "No, that's not- of course I want to be with you." He gently takes Lewis by his arms, looking pained. "I just... I don't believe I can, while you two haven't buried the hatchet. You'll never be free to love someone else while you're still hung up on each other."

Lewis swallows. He's a mess of mixed emotions. He doesn't know what to say, or what to do, to make things right. Everything's so bittersweet. Seeing Nico is like his chest is being ripped open and everything he's tried to bury is exposed for the vultures to swoop in on. He can't cope with being left alone.

"I don't need this right now," he pleads.

Seb purses his lips and folds his arms, expecting Lewis to add something.

"Maybe you're right," Lewis gives in, sighing deeply. "But I'm not ready." To tell the truth, he's fucking terrified. He's scared that if he lets Nico in, he'll only get hurt again, except this time he won't be able to battle through it. His mouth feels dry when he quietly admits, "I really need your support today."

He feels horribly exposed and embarrassed, acknowledging how important Seb is to him.

Seb's face softens. "I'm here."

He draws Lewis into a tight hug, all of the tension melting away when he feels Seb's arms wrap around him. He thought he was fine, that he could just brush his near-death-experience off, like any other crash or near-miss. But this is different. He's shaken, and he can't stop thinking about all the things he'd regret if he_ had_ died today. 

He wants to stay like this forever, in a safe cocoon where he doesn't have to face the outside world and all its dangers. Racing seems like the easiest and safest thing in the world compared to opening his heart again. Even if he refuses to fix things with Nico- if that's even possible- where does he stand with Seb? Does he have to love him in secret until he retires? No victory kisses, no going on dates. No 'my partner', no pet names or cute selfies in bed. Forever dodging the paparazzi, scared to be seen in public together. No- he can't help but consider it- no _wedding? _Maybe he's getting ahead of himself, but all he can see right now is a life in indefinite hiding. Hiding from society, and hiding from his problems.

"I'm so glad you're still here," Seb murmurs against his neck. He exhales. "I love you, Lewis."

He draws back and cups Lewis' face with his hands. "I'm sorry I have to make things complicated, but I needed you to know. I don't want to lose you."

Lewis swallows. Half of him is filled with joy to hear it, and half of him is consumed with fear of what it will mean. It reassures him that Seb is invested in their relationship, but is that even a good thing? Lewis is notoriously bad at giving other people what they need and want. He curls his fingers around Seb's wrists. "How... how is any of this going to work?" he asks, despondent. It all seems so unlikely, doomed to fail from the start. 

"I am going to make it work," Seb promises. "If that's what you want. No one has to know, but we don't have to keep it secret forever."

Lewis feels like shit, but deep down, he knows Seb is right. As long as they're together, they can weather whatever the fuck the press, the fans, the sport throws at them. He doesn't want to be alone any more. 

They've been friends for years, and Lewis was always so caught up in Nico that he never had time to appreciate Seb. Recently, that's changed. He considers them to be close, and they complement each other so well that Lewis feels more relaxed with him than perhaps anyone. He never imagined they'd end up like this, but it all feels so natural. It is steady and loving instead of the intense and volatile passion he's been used to. At this age and after everything he's been through, he needs stability. He needs someone who'll stand by him through everything, and hasn't Seb done that already?

Some part of him realises that he won't be able to give Seb everything, unless he lets go of Nico. And until they 'bury the hatchet', he'll always be burdened with carrying that torch. Nico is just one man. Lewis should be better than allowing someone so much control over his life and emotions.

He wants so badly to take Seb's hand and step out into the rain with him. But he can't yet face the scrutiny. He vows that someday he'll find the courage to love openly and fearlessly. For now, he's going to work on making the most of every day he would have been cheated out of, had Nico kept quiet about his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... this chapter took forever to write. I hope people enjoy it. the crash might have been avoided, but it's not the end... the next chapter will just be pure sewis, and chapter 7... well, let's just say i'm looking forward to it, i don't want to spoil anything! your comments have kept me going, made me so happy, and i love all of you. <3


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